Hate, Love and Russia
by NotSureWhatI'mDoing
Summary: Miheal, beaten by his father, rescued by L. Mail, imprisoned by his mother, saved by L. Mail, Matt. Miheal, Mello. Mello comes to Wammy's and meets the gamer Matt, and somehow they find comfort and love in the other, and slowly they begin to heal. Something darker and more horrific than Matt's Wardobe and Mello's Knife threatens to break them now. Something from Hell. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! It's NotSure here again! Story written because I literally have nothing to do in my free time, I'm such a loner. Maybe I should be revising for my exam? Nah, it's okay! Rated M for swearing, child abuse, angst, self harm, suicidal thoughts and boyXboy fluff. Oh, it's got it all...**

**CHAPTER ONE- HATE**

**Mello POV. (Russian, languages will be marked)**

They all hate me here, I don't know exactly why but they still do. They torment me, they tease me, and worst of all they beat me and leave bruises and scars that will stay with me for a long time. One scar, the one on my back, will never leave, it will always be there to remind me of the horrors I have faced. My father hates me the most; he wanted a tough boy with muscles and glory on the side. What he got was, quote, "A gay faggot who isn't worth the shit on his shoe." Lovely. I get that a lot, from my father, my uncle and my brother, Maks, they all hate me so much. I don't really care what my brother thinks, but my uncle and father show their hate in punches and kicks and words that burn holes in my heart.

I curl up in my corner by the stairs, my father is shouting down in the living room, probably already drunk even though it's two in the afternoon. I should be in school, but I'm not. The bruises on my face and the gash on my forehead are too visible, even though no one really likes me, father doesn't want people outside of our house knowing what goes on behind closed doors and barred windows. My five other siblings are at school, three younger brothers, Maks and an older sister. Maks is the only one of my siblings that hates me, the others still like me as a person. They'll be poisoned by my father's words soon, though my sister seems immune to his rants about how disgusting and worthless I am. She loves me, which is something I cherish every moment of every day. She's the one of the rare ones, the rare few who actually loves me; my mother hates me even more than my father does.

I've disgraced my family, and in Russia disgracing your family is the worst crime you could ever commit. It even out ranks murder. Murder happens too often here, sometimes I wonder why laws even exist. Russia is still stuck in its ways; old fashioned, strict and still slightly Communist. Though, that stays between me, myself and I. You never mention Communism, ever. Unless you want to die a slow, painful death. My father hates Communism more than he hates me, and that is saying something. Well, I think he hates Communism more than me, I could be wrong because I've been wrong about so many other things. I made a list:

I told my father I was gay.

I thought my mother would help me.

I thought my older brother, who took care of me for so long, would accept me for who I am.

I thought that Russia was an accepting country

I thought people would still love me.

I fucking hate myself. I came out when I was fourteen, that was three years ago. I'm seventeen now. Three years I've been hated by society, hidden away from the world, beaten and abused and feared and loathed and despised. I don't wallow in self pity that often, but I just spent an hour being broken and kicked like a dog and I feel a bit sorry for myself. I'm glad no one's here at the moment, Anastasia, my sister, would try and pull me out of the pit of despair I'm stuck in; Yurik, my ten year old brother would try and cheer me up; Oleg would pile toys on top of me, trying to make me smile and Avel would simply pester me and annoy me, trying to get at least one emotion out of me.

Every bone of me aches in protest of the slightest movement, so I've been sitting in the same spot for three hours straight. I can feel the bruises, feel my bones as they slowly ware away to nothing. My blonde hair is covering my blue eyes, I get all my looks from my Grandmother; I look so much like her it makes my Mother sick. My Father even more so, gives him a base and strong evidence when he says I look like a girl. Oleg and Yurik look like miniature, male versions of Mother; all black hair and green eyes. Anastasia looks quite a lot like Father; brown hair, brown eyes and I know she hates it. Avel is a mixture, black hair and blue eyes, he _has _to be some Genetic Mutant because there is _no way, _according to proper genetics, can someone have black hair and blue eyes. He has them though, Mother calls him 'уникальный'. Everyone else calls him a freak of nature, well, I don't because I know how much that actually hurts.

"Miheal!" My father shouts from down stairs, I flinch, "Make us tea! They'll be here soon!"

I get up with shaky legs and slowly make my way down stairs, grimacing at every step because it hurts so much. I stare back at the spot, and nearly throw up, there's so much blood everywhere. Great, I'll have to clean that up later. I make my way down stairs, the stairs creek, the house is old and I doubt it'll stand for very much longer. Sometimes, when the weather is really bad, you can feel the walls shake off their foundations. It's insane really, and dangerous.

"Get down here fag!" My father yells again, angry now, "Stop being so slow! Unless I broke your legs you have no fucking reason to be so fucking slow!"

I don't argue, just simply walk quicker and grin and bear it. You shouldn't argue with my father, unless you can take it you never argue with him. I argued with him once, I was off school for three weeks until the wounds cleared. I reach the kitchen and start searching for food in the cupboards. There isn't much, there's some tvorog, butter, eggs, cream and sugar. I could make Paskha Boyarskaya, but I'm missing the vanilla. Oh well, it's all I can do. I just have to hope that father doesn't notice that it's missing. I put the tvorog through the sieve twice and drain it, then add the egg yolks and butter. I whip the cream and sugar together and then add it to the tvorog and stir it. I then add the mixture to the Eastern Paskha mould and put it in the fridge to set.

"What you think you're doing boy?" My father growls as he walks in, "That's not enough, make us some more!"

"Okay," I mutter, reaching for the other cupboard, looking for more food to cook

"Good, now get to it!" My father slams his fist on the table top, making me jump.

I search for more food I can make, the little we have left won't make anything of worth, but I can make some Grenki, which won't fill us up but will at least give us something other than the Paskha Boyarskaya. I slice the loaf of bread and fry it in the beaten eggs, milk and add some salt. I add some cheese on the top to add some flavour just as the door slams open, signalling the arrival of my siblings. I don't go and say hello, I stay in the kitchen, too afraid to leave the room with my father just outside the door. Anastasia strolls in, dropping her bag on the floor with a clank, and walks over to the hob where the Grenki is frying.

"Smells good Me..." She starts but is interrupted as three of our siblings run into the kitchen, our dog, Ira in tail.

"What's for tea Mello?" Yurik asks excitedly, his school bad still slung on his shoulder.

"Yeah!" Oleg, Yurik's twin, agrees, "I'm starving!"

"So hungry!" Avel nods, agreeing with his brothers, "And it smells so good!"

"Just some Grenki and Paskha Boyarskaya." I answer, smiling at their use of my nickname. I prefer Mello to Miheal, I'm not sure why but I do.

"Great!" Anastasia laughs, "Sounds lovely."

I smile at my siblings and continue frying the Grenki, trying to hide the bruises on my face. I don't want them to worry; they shouldn't be worrying about me. It's stupid. Maks walks in, and we stop laughing. I stare at him, he stares back and I can feel the hatred pouring off him. His grabs a Coke from the fridge and stares at me again. He doesn't say anything for awhile, but as he walks out of the door he mutters one word that I hate.

"Queer." He hisses

"What the fuck did you call me?" I yell, turning towards him, showing my other siblings my bruises. They breathe in sharply, showing their anger.

"I said, queer." Maks taunts, knowing there isn't much I can do, "What you gonna do about it?"

I run at him, he dodges me but I still don't give up. I fly my fist at him, and hit him right in his smug face. He doesn't stop smiling though, and he grins as father walks into the room. He barely stops to think as he slams his own fist into my face. It sends my flying towards the cupboards, I smack my head against the wall and my vision goes black for a second. A foot goes into my chest, I keel over in pain and I swear I heard my ribs cracking. It's a very certain possibility he broke my rib, I wouldn't put it past him.

"Don't you fucking dare touch your brother!" Father spits in my face, "You touch him again and you're dead you faggot!"

He stalks out of the kitchen with Maks in trail, and I sit there for a moment, trying to register exactly what happened. When my brain finally starts going again, I stand up slowly and continue making the tea. Anastasia takes some knives and forks out of the draw without a word and lays the table. Yurik takes out eight cups from the cupboard under the sink and fills them all with water. No one speaks, no one asks if I'm okay but I don't mind. I know it's not out of hate or neglect, just out of respect. They know I don't like to be reminded of what happens when father gets angry. They respect my wishes, which is nice.

"Tea ready yet boy!?" Father yells from the lounge,

"Yes." I call back, and I immediately start plating up the Paskha Boyarskaya and put the Grenki on a separate plate. I put the Paskha at everyone's places and the Grenki in the middle of the table so people could have as much as they wanted. I sit down and stare at the portions on the plates and for some reason I order them in size order; Father's, Maks', Mother's, Anastasia's, Yurik's, Oleg's, Avel's and mine. I'm seventeen and have less food than an eight year old. Yes, I served the food, but last time I gave myself I proper portion I was punished severly. I give myself the least now, after father's many rants about how much of a waste of food I am.

"Prayer," Father orders, we join hands in a circle and Mother starts the Grace

"Отец выше, благослови нашу еду, и мы благодарим вас за дар жизни."

"Aминь" We all finish, and we start eating.

Father scoffs his food down and eats five Grenki even though he had two large portions of Paskha Boyarskaya. Maks eats his almost as quickly, but only has three Grenki and Mother eats hers politely, like a proper lady should. Yurik and Oleg, who are sitting either side of me, try and scrape some of their food onto my plate, but I shake my head, not wanting to get them in trouble. Father wouldn't be pleased with that, I speak from experience. I move my food around with my fork, well, scraps of food that couldn't feed a lone mouse. I don't get a crumb of Grenki and I don't get a second helping of Paskha Boyarskaya, where my father gets three extra portions and then takes the little food I had on my plate. Anastasia watched with an open mouth, but didn't dare make a sound or a protest. I don't blame her.

After Father finished his food he and Maks leave for the pub, Maks is old enough to drink, being 19 and he and Father go to the pub often. I clear the table, wash everything up, tidy the Dining Room and then bleach the hell out of the patch of blood at the top of the stairs. Anastasia comes to help me and when we've finished she hands me my homework that she got from my teachers. I make my way up to my room, which is on the fifth floor. We have five floors, the house is compact and made for height rather than width. The bottom floor has the kitchen, the lounge, the dining room and the laundry room. The second floor has Father's study, Mak's room and the storage room. The third floor has the kid' bathroom and Anastasia's room, Oleg and Yurik's room and Avel's room. The fourth floor has Mother and Father's room and their bathroom. The fifth floor, which is basically the attic, is my room. Yeah, I have a whole floor to myself, but it's full of boxes and such because it's the attic. I have a bed, a desk and a box for my clothes.

I sit down on my bed, and read the homework sheet. It's simple, it's an essay on one of the three English authors we studied over the year: Charlotte Bronte, Charles Dickens or Jane Austin. I pick Charlotte Bronte, mostly because I've read Jane Eyre like 17 times. I love that book, yeah it's girly but I can like it. I finish it in half an hour, it should have taken me at least three hours but it was way too easy. That's what comes from reading every textbook I'll ever need, I thought Father might like me at least a little bit if I was smart. Didn't work. Shouldn't have expected it to.

I glance at the clock, half one in the morning. I didn't even realise what time it was, I was zoning out, trying to just die of boredom. I want to die, but I don't think I'll ever be able to take my own life. I don't want to be one of those kids that suicide is all they're remembered for, don't want to be just one of those statistics. I just have to wait, Father will kill me in one of his rants sooner or later. I hope it comes sooner, that would just make everything so much better. No one would miss me, Anastasia, Yurik, Oleg and Avel will be the only ones who would really care. Mother wouldn't even blink an eye-lash, though she might ask, who exactly _was _Miheal Keehl? Maks wouldn't even care, and Father would hold a party. He would laugh, celebrate and generally be happy about it.

I hate my life.

**OH GOD, INTRODUCTORY CHAPTERS ARE LIKE, THE WORSE THINGS TO WRITE! It took me 7 edits to get this right. Please review, I love reviews as much as Mello loves chocolate. The foods Mello was cooking are actually proper Russian dishes, you have no idea how long I was there clicking on and off the internet, copying the names and the recipes off Google. Though, Pasha Boy-whatever, takes twelve hours to set, but I changed that just because I wanted to, and because I didn't want to randomly have school going on for 12 hours after 2pm, because I would kill myself if that is what I had to do. I dislike school, it sucks.**

**TRANSLATIONS:**

Отец выше, благослови нашу еду, и мы благодарим вас за дар жизни. Aминь- Father above, bless our food, and we thank you for the gift of life. Amen.

(Random prayer because Mello's religious, don't quite know why it's there...)

Уникальный- Unique


	2. Chapter 2

**Oops, someone already used the name "From Russia, With Love." Oops... Well, I'm changing the title, and I think I like this one more. Well, writing this chapter while upset and angry at my now ex-boyfriend. I dislike him... Well, hope I did okay at this chapter, wasn't quite sure if I over did it a little bit... **

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own Death Note. Or some people would be dead, and some would still be alive. Let's leave it at that...**

**Chapter Two- Fear**

**Mello POV (Russian)**

It's a cold day that when I go back to school. Snow fell over night, it stuck and it's almost three feet high. It's -20 *C and I can barely feel my toes and fingers, my hair is frozen at the tips and I think my pinkie finger fell off a while back. Anastasia walks beside me and the twins and Avel are just behind. Avel, Oleg and Yurik are already involved in a serious snow ball fight and I think some of them might die if it gets any more violent, I think Avel will be the first one to fall. He's so little. Yurik threw a snow ball at the back of my head a minute ago, I whimpered in pain, the back of my head is still soft from Father's beatings yesterday. Anastasia gave him a sharp look and Yurik quickly apologised. I told him it was okay, it just hurt and I knew he didn't mean anything by it.

The school day goes quickly, I study, I eat and I play football in PE. We had a test in Advanced Chemistry, I think I got an A, maybe A*, I don't know. It was too easy, I think I might be able to skip three years, but Father would never let me do that. He doesn't want me succeeding. English, I hand in my Essay and get another one; AC, I get another assignment and I finish it at lunch. In PE we play volley ball and football. I easily own everyone in football, but volley ball is not my sport. Why don't they let us play proper, Russian sports, forget this English and American crap. I want skating and ice-hockey. Proper sports. I'm not the outgoing type but I like sports, it's something I'm good at.

At lunch, I sit with my siblings and I pick at my food. I'm not used to eating much food, I've never eaten a lot of food and the last time I gorged myself on food I threw it all up into the toilets. That wasn't fun. Anastasia lectures me on it, but I simply swear under my breath and throw my crusts at her. I pull the smallest of chocolate bars out of my bag, and slowly munch on the only food that I can really keep down. I love chocolate, it makes me happy, which is only due to the release of endorphins but it still feels awesome. It's nice to feel a little bit happy, it doesn't happen much.

Someone yells on the other side of the cafeteria, I flinch and consider running for it. It takes me awhile to realise that the person isn't going to attack me, I hate the feeling of it. I hate the fear. Fear is the worst possible emotion you can feel, it makes you want to curl up in a corner, makes you want to throw up your own heart and end it all in a puddle of pain and blood. Well, it makes me want to do that. I want to curl up in a corner, throw up my own heart and end it all in a puddle of pain and blood. Maybe it won't be too long, I hope it won't be too long. Fear is sometimes all I feel for days on end, all I feel for weeks and I want it to just be _over_!

At home, I don't say a word to Mother or to Maks. I simply ignore everyone, just wanting it to be dark and for everyone to be asleep. I make a simple dinner of chicken and rice and rush upstairs the moment I've finished clearing up. I grab the knife in my draw and push it to my wrist. I stop. What the fuck am I doing? This isn't going to help anything; this isn't going to make anything better. If anything, it's going to make it worse. Wait, why do I care? Why do I care if it doesn't help? Why do I actually give one fuck?

At least I feel this way, at least I feel something other than fear. A momentary distraction, that's what this is. A way to forget how hellish my life is, even for just a couple of seconds. I drag the knife across my wrist, I smile as I feel the sting shoot up my arm. I stare at my vein, at the knife, back at my vein and back at the knife. It would be so easy to end it right now. It would only hurt for a little bit, and then I would simply drift off, without really feeling it. But, I don't want to leave my younger brothers and Anastasia to face Father's anger. He would never take it out on Maks, so the others would probably be beaten to a pulp in a fit of rage.

I stare at the blood as it drips onto my bed, I don't need to get worried, no one but me comes up here. Anastasia says she doesn't want to invade my privacy, but in all honest I think she doesn't want to know what I do up here, she knows it can't be good. She saw me taking the knife up here when I was fifteen, she never commented and never spoke of it again, but I know that she knows what I do with it. And I _know _she doesn't like it, but she doesn't know a way to stop it so she doesn't mention it. She understands though, I know she thinks I'm depressed, and to be honest, I think I am. I sit here every night, make a new scar on my wrist and then repeat the hellish life that is apparently mine.

Why does this have to be happening? I've never done anything wrong, and yet everyone seems to hate me. I've never done anything bad, and yet I'm punished for something that isn't my fault, something I can't control. If there is a God, why would he let this be happening? If there is a God, why would he make me the way I am, then let all his people punish me for it? It doesn't make any sense, I can't find any logic behind it. So, that's it really, isn't it? If there is a God, he hates me; or, there just isn't a God and we're all just deluding ourselves. I wish I could believe the former, but the latter just seems to have more logic behind it. Oh, I wish life were more simple. If life was simple, I would understand _why _my father hates me so much, why Maks loved me and then hated me the moment Father told him.

What does that say about love? Love is a lie; love isn't real because if 'love' was real, hate wouldn't exist. Hate, as I see it, was only created because you had to counteract love. Love is only an idea, love cannot exist because 'love' was never real to begin with. Love is simply the word given to a feeling released by the endorphins in our brain; hate is the word given to a feeling released by the endorphins in our brain. Love and hate are man-made, it never existed until we came into being, because we created love and hate. Humans, we have a need to name and label everything, we can't cope without knowing what something is. Love was created because we _needed _it, humans needed something to hold onto, something to make our lives seem less horrible. Hate was created because we needed something to counteract love, something to make 'love' seem rarer. What does that say about humanity? What it says is that we're sadistic, with a need to feel _needed_.

The next week goes by in a blur of fear, pain and depression. I have many new bruises to show for it, a new scar on my chest and two new scars on my wrist. My life in one sentence just shows how pathetic it is. Mother screams at me when my Report comes in; five A's and seven A*. Neither of my parents wants me to succeed, if I do, then everything they've said to me for three years is proved to a lie. I wish I could prove them wrong for everything, prove that I'm not worthless, I'm not pathetic, I'm not scum, I'm not useless, but I know I can never prove them wrong for those, because they're true. I know; I know they're true and nothing anyone says can ever change that. I clean up more blood than you can possible imagine, I think something is wrong at Father's work. Maybe that's it, something must be wrong, he's never been so... Oh, my brain isn't working, hasn't for the past week.

"Mihael!" Father slams the front door shut, shaking the whole house, "Get the fuck down her faggot!"

I run downstairs. This. Is. Not. Good. He's wasted out of his fucking mind, he's angry and he hasn't even seen me yet. I get down the stairs and stare at Father. His suit is ripped, his breath smells of vodka and he doesn't look too happy. Fuck that, he looks furious.

"I can't believe it," He throws his suit case at my head and punches my in the stomach, "Fire me? They don't know what's coming to them!" He kicks me in the hips and throws me to the wall. My head cracks open and blood trickles down my top and stains my rosary blood red.

"You say something boy?" Father chuckles heartlessly and throws his beer bottle at my face, slicing open my chin, "You know what? Screw you faggot! What are you going to ever accomplish? You're worthless! If you ever do anything right, it'll be your time as a male whore! That's all you'll be good for! Fucking people up the arse and screwing people! Why don't you just go and fucking die you faggot!"

His words sting, he's never said anything like this before. I hate him, hate him so much. I want to die right now; I have no idea what he's going to do with the knife. Holy shit, he has a fucking _knife_! He comes up to me, knife raised, ready to do something terrible. He draws it across my neck, I whimper in pain as the blood falls down like a waterfall. He laughs, an evil, I'm-a-murder-and-I'm-going-to-kill-you, laugh. Oh, Lord, please! Please, please, please, please, please, please don't let this be happening. This can't be happening! THIS CAN'T BE FUCKING HAPPENING! I've wanted to die for so long, but as Father stands above me, laughing like a maniac, I struggle and hate the feeling of knowing the pain that's going to come. I squirm, trying to stand up, but am forced down as pushes on my leg. He adds more pressure to my ankle, more pressure, more pressure and more pressure until... SNAP! I scream in agony, my ankle is on fire! Explosions of pain shoot up my leg, forcing tears to pour from my eyes.

I stop short as he drives the knife into my chest, I don't make any sound. I sit there, like a fish, opening and closing my mouth. Blood splatters onto the floor, a red river of death. My life flashes before my eyes, cheesy but it happens, pain, pain and more pain is all I can think of. Mother's words of disgust when I tell her I'm gay; Father's punches of hate for who I am; the pain of three years of having no parents who love me. The pain of my older brother, the one I looked up to, admired and loved, going against me, hating me and betraying me when Father tells him to. The slow thinning of my thick hair, my body thinning due to neglect and starvation. People finding out that I'm gay, my friends turning away from me because society says so. The teachers only talking to me because I get great results and make the school look good. Watching Anastasia explaining to our younger brothers _why _I'm not allowed to eat enough food, why Father beats me and why everyone hates their older brother.

"So faggot, what you gonna do?"

He comes up to me, nostrils flared, fist raised, eyes on fire. I hear yelling, Anastasia. She comes running towards us, screaming like hellfire, and stands like some sort of guardian angel she protects me. I doubt it will do much good, blood continues to pour from my chest and everything is off, colours are too vibrant and my hearing is muffled. Father doesn't seem angry though, he's almost happy, like he wanted this all along. Yurik, Oleg and Avel come running into the kitchen and stop short when they see me. The three come up and kneel beside me, eyes wide with fear, faces echoing horror that no child should ever feel. Avel's hands are stains with blood, my blood. My brain doesn't seem to register this, I smile at them like I haven't a care in the world. Like I'm not bleeding to death in my kitchen after being stabbed by my father.

He laughs coldly, chuckling, chortling with joy. Ira comes in, tail wagging and generally being happy. Father laughs again, harder this time. I walks over to Ira, places is foot just above her neck and stamps down. Oleg screams as her bone crunches with a deafening snap. Tears fall down the twins faces, pure terror radiating off them and I have to choke down the vomit. Anastasia curses at him, calls him a bastard, a pig a... She trails off as Father points at me lying on the floor, surrounded by a puddle of blood.

"Miheal!" She screams, she kneels down beside me and pulls my hand off my chest, trying to see the damage. She looks at the hole helplessly, tears threaten to come out of her eyes, "Miheal, stay with me! I'm going to get help. Boys, keep him _awake_!"

With that she grabs her coat and runs outside, her white nightgown stained with red. Blood colours her hair, bloody hand prints dot the dress and there is a crazed look in her eyes. The boys try and keep my awake, shaking my hand, talking of happy times and holidays, of school and of snowball fights. I don't remember most of them, I only think of the pain that ripples down my spine, the blood that falls out of my hands and the white shirt I was wearing that is now red.

"Remember all the good times!" Yurik laughs, but it's forced, "Remember everything that makes you happy!"

"Tell us," Avel pleads, "Tell us a happy story!"

"I can't remember any," I mutter, I don't think they heard, but I don't care. Everything is going to end soon, I don't have time to think about the rare moments of happiness in my life

"Just hold on," Oleg assures me, "Anastasia will be here soon."

Wait... Anastasia...

My head is spinning, I can't think straight and everything has a strange, fuzzy look to it. Like the TV isn't tuned in properly, or like I need glasses.

Anastasia...

Help me...

**DUMM DUMMM DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

**Sorry for the short chapter, longer chapters from now on. I promise. Pinkie promise, hope to die, thousand needles if I lie. **

**Tune in next time, for more of my randomness and just plain weirdness. I'm not sure if I like this chapter, I think I might have rushed it a little bit, but I literally couldn't think of ANYTHING ELSE. No Russian in this, I feel a little bit stupid, seen as Mello is actually Russia. I wanted to get Mells to Whammy's really soon on because the plot requires is. Just wait and see**

**KYAHH KYAHH KYAHH.**

**I just finished Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, and it's sooooo good! I recommend it! Brilliant! **


	3. Chapter 3

**This was such a hard chapter to write, I spent ages trying to work out **_**what **_**L would think like. It was the hardest thing about this chapter, and of course, trying to get the pacing right. I decided to make L aware of emotions and how people would feel about certain things, but not really able to feel those emotions himself. Don't know if I really got that through, but I tried my hardest. I think I won't be writing as L again. Way too hard.**

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own Death Note or the characters, except my original characters. I don't know why I have to specify this...**

**Chapter Three- Saved**

**L's POV **(English)

I stand outside of the sweet shop, I haven't been able to find any real, authentic, Russian sweets. Only English and American, I don't know why I came here anymore. There is a 70% chance that I've wasted my time. I could have gone to Whammy's and seen Matt and Near again. I miss those two, I wish I could see them more often, but being L means that I don't have much time for pleasantries. Sweets and cake do not count; sugar is needed to keep my brain working at full capacity, so it cannot be counted as a treat. I need sugar; people do not seem to understand this. Watari comes out of the sweet shop, three boxes of Russian Cookies in hand, I didn't notice those, I was too busy admiring the Macaroons. Such wonderful colours

We walk down the road, the snow is falling heavily, well it is January in Russia, I didn't expect anything else. There was a 5% chance it would rain, but that wasn't a very high possibility, so I only packed one rain coat. It is very cold, it is never this cold in England, though some people seem to believe that England is always very cold, raining or snowing. Sometime it's sunny, but that isn't often. I pull my scarf tighter around my neck, it's the same scarf I wore when I was first taken to Wammy's. It holds many bitter-sweet memories of my childhood.

I stop, Watari does too and I'm not surprised. A young girl, 18? 19? I can't tell, but she's young. Her brown hair is highlighted with red, her white nightgown is burgundy, coloured in blood. She begs, screams, yells and pleads with passerby, asking for help, tears falling down her face. Her brown eyes are sad, terrified and all the other emotions in between. Her feet are bare-footed, even though the snow still covers the ground, her coat doesn't seem think enough to keep her warm and it isn't even done up. I'm surprised, no one has helped her yet, and she looks like she's been standing out here for awhile. Watari walks up to her, holding out his umbrella trying covering her thin frame. She looks up to him, eyes wide open in shock, she was definitely _not _expecting this.

"Что случилось, дорогой?" He asks, kind and grandfatherly, I stay behind him, trying to hide myself as much as possible

"Мой брат! Пожалуйста, помоги ему, он нуждается в помощи!" She pleads, panic exploding from within her, "Пожалуйста!"

"Даже не помогают малышу Keehl. Он педик, не нужна никому." A random man adds, laughing his head off. I frown in disgust. It's obvious that this boy, whoever he is, needs desperate help. Why would someone say something so heartless? I'm not one for displays of emotion, but what that man said strikes me as extremely wrong.

"Я не возражаю, я собираюсь помочь ему." Watari replies angrily, I nod, though of course, no one sees it. I'm still hiding behind Watari.

"В самом деле? Ты хочешь сказать это?" The young girl mutters unbelievingly, obviously not expecting help, but still needing it. Really needing it.

"Да, мой дорогой," Watari smiles at her but she doesn't smile back, "Скажи мне, где твой брат?"

She takes Watari's hand and leads us down the street. We gain ourselves a few stares, curses and mutters of, _'God damn Keehl kid, just die'_. Her hands are shaking, her eyes still crying and I can tell she needs just as much help as her brother does. Only, she needs help emotionally, rather than medically. The houses slowly progress worse; run down gardens, broken windows and empty vodka bottles strewn across the pavements. The whole neighbourhood echoes pain and suffering. An old man, a teenager and a girl who's nightdress is stained with blood. We fit in here; this is the first time I've ever fitted into an environment. I with it just didn't have to be this one.

We come up to a house, four stories and an attic. One window is smashed into a thousand tiny pieces, the door is swung wide open and when we go inside, I smell nothing but blood and death and pain. We walk into the kitchen, I have seen many gruesome scenes in my life, but this one has to be the worst. A dog corpse is thrown on the floor, its head crushed into a bloody pulp. Blood is splattered onto the white tiles, a knife lies on the kitchen table-top. But, the worst thing has to be the young boy slumped in a corner, blood steadily flowing out of him. His blonde hair hangs limply, his way too thin body is stained red and his chest is cut open.

Three younger boys surround him; two are obviously twins, and the youngest brother. They seem even more horror stricken than their older sister; their clothes are stained with young tears. Innocent tears, tears that shouldn't be shed. The youngest of the three, black hair and blue eyes, how did that happen? I can't understand this situation, none of this makes any sense. A young boy bleeding to death in the kitchen, a dead dog, four horror struck siblings and a random citizen tell us not to help them. It would make more sense if I knew the five previously, but I have never met the siblings before in my life. I don't know who they are, why this would be happening or _who _would have done this. Then it strikes me; where are their parents?

That is the question I should be asking, why would their parents not be helping? Parents, as I have been told, love their children and who protect them without thinking. However, the parents are nowhere to be seen, their parents can't be found. The whole situation screams _wrong_. Could their parents have done this? It makes sense, but there isn't enough evidence at the moment. I will have to question the children, but I doubt they will be able to talk about it at the moment. They seem helpless, and I can understand why.

Watari goes up to the blonde haired boy, checks his wound and immediately starts to help him. He uses everything he can find, kitchen roll, towels and even the girl's coat to try and stem the bleeding. When Watari's sure that they boy isn't going to die in the immediate future, he picks him up and carries him outside. The four siblings and I follow after him towards the hospital, the best way to help the boy at the moment. At the hospital we have to wait too long a time, most of the nurses and doctors refuse to help the boy, who I now know is called Miheal, out rightly. Wrong, everything about this is just so wrong. Finally, one doctor is kind enough to help Miheal. He's taken into surgery, given blood and stitched up. He's given some Morphine to help with the pain, and now we have to wait until he wakes up.

The sister, Anastasia, couldn't sit down. She paced the room, scaring her brothers, Yurik, Oleg and Avel. They seem to be in a bubble, not really believing what was happening. It's like their wrapped in a blanket, protecting them from the truth. I asked Watari why we were still here, this is too dangerous for my liking; too many cameras. At first, he told me to stop being so heartless, but apologised in the same second. He explained, that Miheal Keehl was special. Miheal has an IQ of 175, lowest score he has ever gotten on a test was 99.5%. According to Anastasia, he took the tests she was taking, and got A's and A*'s. She then went on to explain that she is four years above him and is in her second year of University, and he could easily be ahead of her. The three brothers agree just as strongly. It isn't enough to prove that he is a genius, I shall have to do some tests when he wakes up. Watari planned to re-house the children in England, but if Miheal proves himself, he's already earned himself a place at Wammy's. Watari agrees with me, but that would only happen if Miheal proves himself in the test.

We waited for three hours until Miheal woke up, and we weren't allowed to see him for another hour until the doctor was sure that he wouldn't die on us. That would be a waste, the boy shows a lot of promise. According to his siblings that is, but we will have to wait until I'm able to test him. I am really looking forward to the results, I have never met such a unique boy. Anastasia told me, reluctantly, that her brother was extremely depressed and had been for three years. She then went on to say that it was their father who attacked Miheal, in a fit of rage; she told me that their father had been abusive to Miheal ever since he came out as being gay at the age of fourteen. I dislike this man, and I have never even met him. The story was followed with many swear words and curses on his head.

I let Miheal's siblings see him first, though I am curious about what this boy will have to say. They go in crying, and come out crying. They were in there for two hours, and I managed to drink seventeen cups of tea and thirty three slices of cake. Watari chided me on emptying the café of sugar, but I know that it was all in jest. I wait patiently for the four kids to finish, but when they are finally done I'm itching to talk to Miheal. I want to talk to him, Watari has painted a very vivid picture of a genius, though a very depressed genius.

I walk into the room, the monitor beeps reassuringly, and the boy looks at me. I can tell he doesn't trust me, the way his eyes dart from me and back to the door quickly, his eyes are full of distrust and fear. I pull up a chair, and sit down beside him, he eyes me up and down, I can sense the hatred. He doesn't even know me.

"Miheal, please don't be alarmed," I start, speaking in English, I want to test him, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I didn't think you were Russian..." He mutters under his breath in fluent English, "Anyway, how do you know my name?"

"Your sister told me a lot about you. I have heard that you're a bit of a genius." Test one, now, let's see what he says.

"You shouldn't trust the opinion of someone; especially if they're related to the person you're asking about," He pauses for breath, "You should always make your own opinion of someone before coming to any judgement about them."

"I see," So far so good, he's doing very well, "But would it not be good to know a secondary opinion?"

"In some things yes," He answers, "Like a science experiment, you always get someone else to do the same experiment, but this is different. Opinions can always be created or forced onto someone; you can never trust someone else's opinion without coming to your own first. Science experiments can never be likened to people; people aren't chemicals with a set amount of atoms. People have too many variables and their opinions can change from day to day, moment to moment or even second to second. For example, at first I thought you were an insane weirdo that was going to kill me, but now we've been talking for awhile I realised that my first impression was very wrong."

"Yes, that does make sense," I've never heard someone put it like that, he's the first one to ever go into so much detail. He seems to understand the importance of science and its meaning, but also understands the way people think. A couple more tests left to go, "However, I seem to disagree with you. I believe that the human race is easily readable; in some cases people's thought processes can be mapped and even altered with. This means that science can easily explain the workings of the human brain and the way that people think. That would easily destroy any need for opinions."

"But that is what I am talking about! If science can easily alter people's thought processes, there would be no way you could ever trust the opinions of others. Actually, it would mean that you couldn't even trust your own opinions! Anyone could easily use reverse-psychology to alter your thought patterns, your memories and your opinions. Actually, they could even alter the way you perceive yourself and others around you."

"Very good," I hesitate, this boy has to be extremely cleaver, a genius, I'm not sure I'll need all of the tests, "But, tell me this? What you've just said actually questions the existence of free will. What would you say to that?"

"I would say that free will never really existed in the first place." Miheal adds shortly; I freeze. This boy just told me free will doesn't exist, without an explanation.

"Go on..." I insist

"Free will couldn't exist because how could it if you can easily change someone's opinions? If free will did exist, it would be completely impossible to alter someone's opinions or their thought process. We can easily do this, meaning that we can easily control someone; free will doesn't exist because 'free will' means that people are in total control of their own actions. Science has destroyed the illusion of free will, that's what free will is: an illusion. Something created by humanity to give people security."

This boy has a very negative view on humanity, such negativity for someone so young. From what I've learn during the course of the day, I can tell that Miheal is a genius, he's extremely observant and very depressed. From what I've learnt from the conversation I can tell that Miheal deserves a place at Wammy's, and a couple on the side too. Though, his emotions seem to get in the way. If he were on a case, I believe that his emotions would easily be able to control him, and that may get in the way of his deductive skills. I just noticed, that was what Miheal was talking about, free will not really existing.

"Miheal," I start, "I have to say, I have really been testing you. I heard that you were a genius, and I wanted to make my own judgement on that fact. My friend and I, we run a school for genii, for children with amazing mental power and special skills. I would like to offer you a place in that school, you have proved that you definitely deserve a place there. However, this school is in England. It would mean a very large upheaval of your life, and the school would be extremely harsh, the whole point of the school is to find a replacement for the detective L. The pressure has driven one student to suicide and another to insanity. What do you say?"

"You really think I could be classed as a genius?" Miheal asks, his mouth open wide in surprise, "But, I'm worthless..."

"No, you're not!" I interrupt him, I can't have him thinking like this, I think he could be another possible successor. Yes, that sounds like the best thing to do for him, "I am not going to have you talking like this! Miheal, you are an extremely smart, special young man who has the potential to become L's successor. But, to become that, you would have to fight your way to the top of the twenty six of the world's smartest children and then you would have to fight to be ahead of the two other boys who are in contest to become L's successor."

"You're L." Miheal states, not a question. He knew from only what I've said, "The way you talk about the two boys; you sound protective, fond of them even. I can tell you care about them, the fact that you made it so obvious makes me think that it's another test."

"You're right," I reply, "I was testing you, and you've passed every test I've given you. I would like you to become a student at the school, the students call it Wammy's, you show so much promise. It would be a shame to waste such potential, you could become a great detective."

"You really think so?" He asks, "You really think I could become the next L?"

"Yes, I do Miheal," I smile at him, "However, you couldn't be Miheal Keehl anymore, you wouldn't able to reveal who you are if you become a contender to become the next L. The two other are known as Matt and Near, they are extremely smart and to beat them you would have to try harder than you've ever tried before."

"Yes," Miheal says hardly, "I want to go, I want to try and be the next L."

"I thought you would say something like that, but there is the matter of your siblings..."

"What about them!?" He yells, worry filling his eyes

"It would be hard to keep them at Wammy's, I know it would be hard but you wouldn't be able to live with them. We could give them a small house in the same town as the school, but you wouldn't be able to see them every day."

"I need to discuss this with them..." Miheal trails off, hanging his head

"I understand," I add, "Take all the time you need to decide."

I wait four days until Miheal tells me that he's going to come to England with us. It comes as a surprise, as I come in to check on him on Thursday, he simply tells me he wants to go. After another three days we've made all the arrangements: we plan to leave to England the moment Miheal is out of hospital. It won't be long, the doctor says he'll be okay to leave very soon. Watari made the five passports, bought the plane tickets and also bought them new clothes. Miheal, who now will be called Mello, needed the most. Today, he told me he wanted to be called Mello, when I asked him why, he simply told me that Mello had been his nickname for a very long time, and it was the only name he would ever be considered being called apart from Miheal.

Watari bought Mello seven pairs of trousers, six pairs of shoes, ten shirts, three jackets and a coat. He also bought him couple of wristbands, so that Mello could hide the scars on his wrist. It hadn't taken long to work it out, especially when we found the knife in his bedroom/ attic. Watari insisted on buying Mello more; the boy needed a phone, pants, trousers, notebooks and other things that are needed in modern life, but Mello had been banned from owning. From what I've learnt of the Keehl's life, it wasn't a happy one. Yurik, Oleg and Avel told me that their father was controlling, violent and a drunk. Anastasia told me that the oldest brother, Maks had believed what their father told him about how disgusting being gay was; that he hated Mello as well, and that their mother was just as bad.

But, no matter how hard Mello's life has been, the worst has yet to come. Maybe, now that there are three successors, we won't have a repeat of A and B... Well, I seriously doubt that Mello would become B, if anything he'll be the next A, but it would be easy to give him therapy and help him with his problems. I couldn't do it, but it would be easy to get one of the psychology teachers to help him, in fact I think that they would be pleased to have a new case study. They've never encountered such a problem and such a messed up boy, I definitely haven't and I doubt anyone else has. This will be interesting, I want to see how Mello will react to a different environment, one where he isn't going to be abused by people. But it will be hard for him, I know that it was hard for everyone else. I know how hard it was for Matt and Mello.

**Well? What do you think? God damn it L, why are you so hard to write for? I hate you! Wait, I'm sorry... I love you L, I didn't mean it... Review please, I'm a review junkie and I'm not getting my hit at the moment... I'm the junkie, you're the dealer. Please, I'll pay you; in chapters...**


	4. Chapter 4 (Part One)

**Wow, wrote like seven pages on word and then forgot to save it and I clicked close, and then BOOM it deleted it's self. Not! Good! It took me ages to re-write it! Well, this chapter is dedicated to my lovely reviewer CatatonicVanity, who's reviewed every single chapter so far! Thanks for the compliments! Writing this chapter while ill, bored, and simply exhausted because I haven't been able to sleep in three days but this is all I have to do. Shows just how great my social life is, doesn't it... Oh, also my school is closed because of snow!**

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own Death Note, sadly...**

**Chapter Four- Loved**

**Matt POV (English)**

It. Is. Fucking. Cold. Well, it is England and it rains all the time here, nothing new nothing special. I haven't been outside in three days, it's been raining nonstop and it's cold enough inside, let alone outside. I'm not going outside, even if my Pikachu depended on it. No, I'd go outside if Pikachu's life depended on it, I love that guy too much. Near sits on the window sill opposite me, playing with a puzzle that he's completed seventeen times in the past two hours. We don't talk, I don't want to talk and I'm not going to talk. I'm busy defeating the Elite Four. Push over's... I don't know why people think it snows in England loads, It's mostly rain and drizzle and frost and general yuckiness.

"Matt! Near!" Linda yells through the window, I only just hear, "L's back, and he's got a present he wants to talk to you!"

We both clamber up, and make our way to Rodger's Office. I know the way and can walk to it with my eyes closed, I've been sent there all most every day I've been here because of fighting. It's not my fault the guys decided to lock me in the cupboard. I don't do well in tight spaces, or dark rooms. Or both combined. It brings back too many bad memories, mostly of my mother locking me up in her wardrobe because I did something wrong. Mostly because I was born, she didn't want a child; and then when born, I was born disabled. Yeah, I don't look it but I'm disabled. Blind in one eye, and the other's pupil doesn't work properly so that I'm super sensitive to light. I have to wear goggles all the time so that my retinas don't burn from the concentration of light. Also, I have weak, brittle bones that can't withstand high pressure and break easily. Mother saw to it that my arm was broken seven times before I was ten, my ankle broken six, my toe fifteen and my leg twice. I'm surprised no one noticed it sooner.

The corridors are freezing, I pull my vest tighter around me, trying to warm myself up a bit more. But it doesn't work, I didn't really expect it to. Me and Near stroll down the halls and down the stairs and down corridors and across landings. He plays with his white hair, twirling it around his finger and I'm bashing the A key down, trying to win the battle, though they're push over's, you still have to take them seriously. They're not called the Elite Four for nothing, they're the best Pokémon Trainers in the whole of the Pokéworld and they're kinda my heroes. Screw L, I want to be Ash Ketchum. I'm his successor, but I don't want to be L... Someone explain the logic please!

We finally reach Rodger's Office, and I walk in without knocking. Near looks at me funny but I only smirk at him. When we go in, I only see one thing; the beautiful blonde haired boy at L's side. He's tall, taller than me by at least two inches; his choppy, blonde, wavy hair falls to his shoulders but it's his blue eyes that shock me. They're the beautiful shinning blue of the sea, brimming with emotions and on fire. He's fucking gorgeous. He's also obviously _not _English, he looks almost Eastern European, maybe Hungarian? Polish? Turkish? Ah, I give up. I'll have to ask him, he can tell me that at least.

"Matt, Near," L says between mouthfuls of cheese cake, "I hope you're well."

"Yes, L," Near says, practically drooling. I'll not be surprised if Near kidnapped L, chains the detective up in a basement and uses the insomniac as a Sex Toy. OH FUCK, I DO NOT WANT THAT IMAGE IN MY HEAD! Oh, gross... L looks at me, head tilted in question. Oh, I think I was retching... Great...

"Matt? Are you okay?" He asks, he smiles at me, "I hope you are not becoming ill."

"I'm fine," I reply, and smirk back at him, "Just had a weird thought."

"What was that?" L asks, pointing his fork at him

"Oh," I smirk again, "Just Near using you as a Sex Toy."

"I hope Near doesn't actually do that," L stares at him slyly and Near looks at me, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, "Anyway," He points at the blonde boy, "This is Mello, and he's going to be another possible successor."

I stare at the detective in shock, another successor? That doesn't make any sense! In the middle of a term? With a boy who hasn't had a test at the school? This boy must be a fucking genius, or L would never do this. I stare at Mello, who looks back at me. He hasn't spoken since we walked in. He looks kind of scared, like he's afraid of us. Makes sense. Well, you have a sugar addicted super detective, an albino child playing with a robot and then me: the one wearing goggles, gloves, stripes and a classic Gameboy Colour in hand. We make an odd group. And also Mello must have gone through some messed up shit to end up here. We all have, it is an orphanage after all.

"Matt, Mello will be your roommate," Rodger tells me, "Can you show him around?"

"Yeah, okay," I say, and nod at Mello who picks up his suitcase, and follows me out of the room.

I let Mello take it in slowly, I know how shocking this place can be at first. I look back at Mello, who is heaving a suitcase behind him. His thin bones tighten in strain, that thing must be heavy. I look at him, watching him gape at the chandelier, the staircase, the lobby, all the kids running around generally being annoying. Little kids bug me, I fucking hate them so fucking much.

"Need help with that?" I ask, pointing at his old leather suitcase, fading Russian text is written on the top and the number lock is sprinkled with dust. He shakes his head, but I go up and help him anyway. I lift the other end of the suitcase and grunt. Holy fuck! What the Pandora does he have in that thing!? Bricks! It has to be, I can't think of anything else. Or maybe a dead body, or a bomb, or... Shut up Matt! Why would he have a _dead body _in there? Damn over imagination. My fault really, for reading too many Sci-fi and Horror books, and for playing games like Zelda... Oh, I don't care anymore.

"Thanks," He says, struggling to look back at me, "I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah," I laugh, "No problem. So... Russia, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm from Moscow." He doesn't look at me this time and I know something is wrong.

"What's it like?"

"Cold, wet, terrible, racist, communist, homophobic. Need I go on?" He chuckles mirthlessly, with no humour in his voice. I wonder what happened to him, to make him hate is own country so much, "You?"

"England," I reply laughing because it's obvious I'm not foreign, "Lichfield actually."

"Where's Lichfield, I've never heard of it?" Mello looks back at me, eyes interested

"It's a few miles south of Birmingham," I chuckle to myself, "Small place, nothing interesting to do. Unless you want to wonder around a big ass Cathedral or learn about Dr Johnston. No cinema, no arcade, no nothing. Good for old people. And they do put on some good plays at the Garrick Theatre."

"Sounds... boring," He says truthfully, I laugh

"Yeah, you got that right!" He laughs with me. His laugh is strained and slightly hoarse, I don't think that he's laughed in a long time. Another mystery, Mello is a strange boy, I can't place him at all.

I lead him to my, wait _our_ dorm room and he stares at it, mouth wide open in horror. I can't blame him. The place is in an absolute fucking mess; clothes are strewn across the floor, Game Sins in every corner, socks hanging off my bed, clothes on Mello's bed and everything is in utter chaos. There's a Coke stain on the floor from when I tipped Coke all over Near and it went everywhere; there's a coffee stain on the ceiling and what L tells me is Jam from when this was A and B's room. Yeah, it's not the best arrangement. I have a bunch of little kids asking me whether I see A's ghost in the night, whether I still hear B's ranting and screaming as he turned mad. I tell them yes to freak them out but in truth, there is literally nothing different about this room. Except the Strawberry Jam stain on the ceiling and the fact that someone died in here. It sometimes freaks me out a little bit, scrap that, it freaks me out A LOT. A FUCKING LOT.

"So..." Mello trails off, "It's obvious you care so much about personal hygiene," He gestures at the plate of now mouldy Macaroni Cheese. I laugh, I know how bad this looks, but I don't really care. I've lived on my own too long and to be honest, I'm not going to change for some random boy. No matter how beautiful he is...

"Okay, that's your bed," I point at the bed on the left and throw my stuff on the floor

"Thanks, Matt I am..."

"Wait," I hold up one hand and stop him in his tracks, "I have some rules if you're going to be living with me."

"Okay, what are they?" He sits down on his bed between the pillows and the bed sheets that are messy and unmade, even though no one has slept in them for seven years. I sit down opposite him, on my bed.

"One," I start, "Don't touch any of my games. I'm being serious! You touch my games and you're fucking dead, got that?"

"Yeah," He nods,

"Two," I hiss, "Don't mention anything that happens in this room to anyone EVER! And three, don't you dare EVER, FUCKING EVER tell anyone about my cigarettes!"

"You smoke?" He asks, his blue eyes wide in surprise

"Yeah," I growl, "Got a problem with that?"

"No," He looks down at the floor, "I have a brother and a father who smoke. I'm okay with it."

"Well the others wouldn't and I wouldn't like it if you told someone!" I yell as loud as I dare, "So you have to promise to never tell anyone and keep the secret to your grave, okay?"

"Okay," He nods, "Any other rules?"

"Nope. Wait, yeah. You have to tell everyone you see the ghost of A. Don't ask, just do."

Mello looks at me funny, and I laugh at him. His lips twist upward in humour, another thing that obviously doesn't happen very often. For a moment we simply look at each other in laughter, our sides hurting and our cheeks aching.

"Can I ask who A is?" Mello inquires, his face no longer smiling

"Yeah..." It's my turn to look at the floor, "A was the first ever successor to L, he and B lived in this room. They were best friends and they were genii, but the pressure of trying to become L drove one of them to suicide and the other to insanity."

"I think L mentioned this, he said one of the students turned insane and one of them committed suicide," I nod at him, he smiles. But as my face falls, his falls too

"B, the one who went insane, became a murder. I don't think you'd have heard of the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases?" He shakes his head, "Wara Ningyo Murders?" He shakes again, "Locked Room Killings?" He nods this time, I nod back at him, "Well that was B, he was challenging L and tried to make a case he couldn't solve."

"That's a bit strange," He muses, I laugh without humour

"Everything about him was strange, you see that stain?" I point at the ceiling and he nods, "That's a Jam stain, B loved Jam. Apparently, he could eat twenty jars in one day."

"That's a lot of jam," He chuckles, laughing but he shouldn't be laughing, but it's still normal. I think I laughed at that point, I was only ten. And the idea of someone eating a jar of jam on its own just made me laugh. Once again, I was ten and I was a bit high on being let out of the wardrobe. Oh, and being able to play games with kids, and being able to look at things without the light killing my eyes. That made me so happy I laughed and ran all the way around the Orphanage, breaking my ankle in the process but, meh, who cares? It was amazing!

We sit there and talk for three hours, I tell him about Wammy's, about L and about Near and Linda and all the others. He tells me a bit about himself; his birthday, about Russia (a little) and about his siblings. He says they're living somewhere around, but L told him not to tell anyone. I nod and I don't question him, I know when not to push people. We don't notice the time flying by, I can't believe that by the time we're finished, it's already seven. The sun had already fallen, being winter the sun falls around five, half six.

"I think we should go down to the Dining Room," I say, standing up and stretching my locked bones, "Food will be ready soon."

"Yeah," He nods and we walk out of the room.

The floor is literally shaking as people run down the halls, down stairs up and down and left and right and everywhere. Seriously, people need to get over it. The food isn't even that good, it's just enough to stop your stomach growling and to stop you dying of thirst. I don't think I ate anything yesterday, my stomach feels empty. I don't really care though, I've never been a big fan of food and I only eat it when I have to, or when someone forces me to. We sit down at a table, plates of chicken and vegetables in hand and drinks and munch down. I eat like, three slices carrots, a slice of chicken and maybe a bit of cookie but that's it. Mello eats even less, barely anything and I can't believe he's alive right now. Like I can really talk...

"So," Linda says as she slams her plate down, sitting opposite me and Mello, "This the new kid?"

"Yeah," I nod, downing my Orange Juice,

"I'm Mello," Mello says, covering his mouth oh so politely, "You?"

"Oh," I laugh, "This is Linda, she's insane."

"Thanks Matty!" She chucks a piece of mash at me, I throw a carrot at her and Mello laughs, "This is Matt, and he's a loner who only has his Pokémon as friends."

"I guessed that when I saw his Gameboy Colour," Mello chuckles, "And his Nintendo SIN and all the other gaming crap he has."

"Yeah," Linda nods, "You should see all his comic books, it's _literally _insane!"

"Comic books?" Mello snickers, trying not to burst out laughing

"Thanks for making me look like a nerd..." I trail off, making Linda laugh at me

"Matt, you're already a nerd," She adds, pointing her fork at me, "You don't need me to make you look like one! I mean, come on! Stripes, that jacket, Gameboy, Comic Books, goggles and..." She trails off, stopping as she realises what she just said, "Sorry."

"It's okay," I say, laughing to relieve the tension, but you can tell it's forced, "Change of subject now?"

"Okay."

Linda scoffs down her food and we leave to the Common Room. The Common Room is basically the place where we can hang out, without having to go outside or in our room; kinda like an escape from wood and bed sheets. Oh, and Jam stains. The room as a bunch of computers, amazingly highteck and WONDEFUL; sofas and chairs and stuff like that so that you can be comfortable; books, games a crappy Xbox that needs to die and just some other random shit that kids need. There's also this fridge with some Coke, Dr Pepper and snacks and stuff. I haven't used that fridge ever, mostly because it's always empty and you're lucky if you can find some mouldy strawberry that we've abandoned and left to die.

We're evil little bastards, aren't we?

Mello jumps at the sight of the mini-fridge and runs and empty's the thing of chocolate. Seriously? Seven bars? Seven! _Seven!_ Zelda, that kid's going to die of diabetes! He can join L, they can even have a joint funeral! They can have like, black roses and then L can have a white coffin and Mello can have a black one. When they're being lowered into the ground the Pokémon Theme Song can be played, and then they can have tea and cakes at the Funeral Wake and then... What the fuck am I doing? I really need to control my imagination. We sit there for a while; I play my Gameboy, Mello watches while eating chocolate and Linda draws. Near glances at up a couple of times, but he doesn't bother us much. I can tell he doesn't see Mello as a threat, cocky bastard.

I don't _hate _Near, I just don't particularly like him. Most people can't stand him, and I can see why. Near's quiet, cocky, he doesn't talk, he never says anything polite and he just isn't a likeable person. For some reason, he emits this... aura? Of 'go and fuck yourself, I don't care' that puts people off talking to him. I've had to talk to him ever since L decided to make us both his successors and I don't really mind him that much. He mostly just sits there, and only talks when he has to, or when he want to make some smart-arse remark or some cocky comment. So he's easy to ignore, especially when you've learnt how to tune everything out and focus on one thing so you don't go crazy. Which is a very good skill to have when you get locked in a wardrobe for days on end. When you're locked in there for five weeks and end up sitting in a mixture of your own piss, crap and tears you _need _to know a way to forget where you are and what you're doing.

Mello slowly settles in, gradually becoming more confident around people. After three weeks, he can listen to someone arguing and shouting without running out of the room and disappearing for hours on end. After another week, he's more open about himself; telling people a little bit more than 'it's cold' when asked about Russia. Though it's only little things like: the people drink a lot, the alcohol is really cheap, the schools don't use heating, the houses are really tall and it's just like any other country but colder. He talks about his family, but he still doesn't tell me what their names are and where they're living, but I know it isn't very far because he gets the bus and goes away for a couple of hours at the weekend and then comes back.

He also developed an addiction to chocolate, saying that the chocolate over here is so much better than the ones in Russia. He explained that he liked the feeling and how happy it made him, which is slightly strange and I think he might get addicted to drugs when he's older. I wouldn't think so though, it's almost impossible to get bad things here. I have to sneak my cigarettes in when I buy them over the weekend, making sure that Rodger never finds out about them. Some younger kids, who somehow managed to get addicted to the Cancer-Sticks, as Mello calls them, pester me and try and buy them off me. I mostly just tell them to fuck off, and if they bug me enough I throw something at them. Mello, Melly, Mell Mell or whatever nickname Linda game him you use, quickly developed a reputation for being hot-headed and easy to annoy. Though he doesn't follow through with his words, he threatens everyone, calls them names and then storms off muttering something in Russia. Though, I seem to be able to avoid this, I'm the only one he doesn't get mad at, or threatens or argues with.

He's angry, eats too much chocolate and I think he might be slightly depressed, but I think he's one of my few friends I'll ever have. He puts up with so much of my crap; my cigarettes, my games, my mess and my tendency to drop things out of the window. He's nice and kind and I think he's been through a lot of shit, mainly because of all his scars. He has so many scars all over his body, bruises that are still healing, the marks and the bandages. He changes those every few days, I asked him what they were but he just went very quiet and didn't talk for a long time. I think it's a knife wound, the way it's sliced open his skin in a kind of zigzag pattern that looks extremely painful. Though, his scars, his marks and his imperfections don't ruin him, don't change how wonderfully beautiful he is.

Wait? The fuck? I do not want to be thinking about that right now, concentrate Matt. Biology test Matt, biology test. Not Mello, not Mello. Not... Mello... The beautiful, handsome, gorgeous Mello... Who I want to run my fingers down his spine and I want him to take me for everything I am and everything I was and everything I will ever be. Because, I want him... MOVING ON!

Every night Mello and I go up to our room but we don't sleep. Mello doesn't sleep much either, but he sleeps a lot more than I do. I think he had jetlag at first, but eventually I realised that he just likes sleep way too much. I don't sleep very often, trying to keep the nightmares away; I play my games until the early hours of the morning. Though, I don't think Mello would appreciate that, so I've had to change my gaming schedule to fit around having a roommate. This is why I hate having to share my room, no one ever understands that I don't need sleep that often and that I _need _to save Hyrule! Okay, I really need to find some more hobbies...

It's around half one when I finally cave, giving in to my body's need of rest. Mello is lying on his bed, his eyes closed but I can tell he isn't sleeping. I clamber into bed, not bothering to take off my clothes and pull off my goggles. For a second, everything's a little blurry and I sigh, because I can't see Mello. Not that I want to see _him_! Well I do but... Well, I simply want to see _something _out of that eye, because it might have made all my problems disappear. I sigh again, trying to push those thoughts out of my head because I know it isn't my fault my mother hated me, it was hers. It took L a long time to convince me it wasn't my fault and that I wasn't worthless or stupid or pathetic or all the other bad things I've been called in my life. I close my eyes, and pray to Zelda that tonight, I don't have to face my nightmares...

"_Mail!" Mother yells as I walk in after school, "Get your arse here right now!"_

_I walk slowly, flinching in pain as the lights hit my eyes. Everything hurts as she drags me down into the basement, she shoves me down and slams the door closed with a deafening bang. I curl up in a ball, trying to make the pain go away. _

_I'm sitting under the tree, playing my Gameboy, trying to hide from the other kids surrounding me. My eyes are squinted, which is the only way I can make some of the pain disappear. Then, the shadow of James Cameron, the student who moved there from Japan a few years ago, covers me. The bully. _

"_Hey cripple!" He laughs, he drags me up to a standing position and covers my good eye, "What's the matter? Can't see?"_

"_Stop it!" I beg, struggling away from him, "Please!"_

"_Oh," James laughs again, throwing his head back, "Begging now are we? Too weak to fight back, huh?"_

"_Please!"_

_I'm ten, curled up in the wardrobe, surrounded by my own excrement. I've been in there for weeks, and I know that I'm going to be here for the rest of my life. That no one is ever going to come back for me, and no one will ever care for me again. Everything hurts, but the worst is my heart. It aches with loneliness and wanting. I want a mother, one that wont hate me or hit me, I want a mother who will care for me and love me. I know she's left for good, but I can't get out of here. I've kicked the door, screamed, shouted and cried out and yet no one has heard me. No one's come and I know no one will ever come and that I'm going to die alone, surrounded by my own faeces like the animal I know I am. _

"_Matt?" a voice asks me, eerily kind and eerily terrifying. The voice is only being nice because it wants to hurt me, because it wants to lock me up again, back in the dark and the horror. _

"_Matt?" The voice asks again, louder this time._

"_Matt?" Something shakes my arm_

"_Matt?" Something hits me in the chest_

"_Matt?" Something shakes my whole body_

"_Matt?" Something strokes my face_

"MATT!" I shoot up, screaming as something wakes me, "Matt?"

I stare at the blue eyes in front of me through my hair in shook. His eyes are kind, but filled with worry and what looks like fear. I'm frozen for a minute, unable to move or speak or even breath, too afraid to move because if I move something will get me. He looks just as afraid as I am to be honest, but for a different thing.

"Matt?" He looks at me kindly, "Are you okay? You were talking and thrashing around in your sleep, I thought you were having a fit or something."

"It's okay," I mutter, shaking my head, hiding my eyes under my hair, "Just a nightmare, it's okay."

"It didn't sound okay," He shakes his own head, "You were screaming and everything."

"This is an orphanage you know!" I yell at him, and he flies up which is not normal, "Sorry,"

"It's fine," He nods and smiles at me, "Want to talk about it?"

"No," I shake but I really do, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sure?" He asks, "You don't have to tell me everything?"

"Okay..." I trail off as he climbs onto my bed and sits beside me,

"So, what was your nightmare about?"

"My mum," I say quietly, "It was my mum."

"What about your mum?"

"Just," I shudder in pain, "She used to lock me up in the wardrobe when I was little."

"Okay," He smiles at me kindly, like he knew what I was going through "Why did she do that?"

"Because I'm disabled," I tell him

"How?" He asks, he doesn't believe me, "You don't look it."

"No, it's my eyes," I look up and he gasps, I know exactly why. One of my eyes is a pearly, milky white that I can't see through, and the other stands in contrast: emerald green, "I can't see out of the white one, and the other is really sensitive to light because the pupil doesn't work."

"Okay," He nods and smiles, "I know something like that can be hard."

"Huh?" I ask, my turn to be confused, he smiles a strange, bitter sweet smile

"My dad abused me from when I was fourteen," He shrugs his shoulders in a way that says; I'm okay with it.

"Oh," I mutter, "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay," He chuckles a little bit, as if remembering something happy, "I have my siblings."

"I never had any siblings, I was an only child, my mum never wanted kids in the first place but when she got pregnant with me she couldn't have an abortion because of her religion. Then when I was born, and the doctors said I was disabled she hated me more that she did before I was born."

"I have five siblings an older sister, an older brother, and three younger brothers," He laughs, I smile at him

"Sounds crazy," I chuckle, trying to imagine looking after six kids

"It was," He laughs, "Especially when two of your brothers are the 'Twins from Hell'."

"Twins from Hell?" I laugh, strange nickname

"Yeah," He sighs as he stops laughing, but he doesn't stop smiling, "Then we had a dog, and then my other brother was born and everything exploded into chaos!"

"I can imagine. What are you, the Vontrap Family?" We both start laughing then, the image of seven six Mello's singing Sound of Music is just too funny _not _to laugh at. I would watch that film, a lot...

We sit there in companionable silence for awhile, taking comfort in the presence of the other. When Mello leaves, the bed feels a little colder than it did and the space between us seems a little bit too big, the silence feels a little bit too lonely. What's happening to me? I've been alone my whole life, I don't need another person with me, I can cope on my own because that's how it's always been. I don't need to get close to another person, because that person will do nothing but hurt me. Because that's how it's always been.

But yet, Mello seems different and I want him in more ways than I've wanted anyone else before. I've wanted friends and a family that loves me my whole life, I've wanted someone who will care for me, like me and talk to me in a way that doesn't hurt my heart. But Mello? I want Mello to warm me, to break the walls I've put around me heart and take me by the hand and kiss me. I want Mello to take everything I am; heart, mind, body and soul. I want Mello to _love _me. I want Mello to kiss me cheek, stroke my face and pull his fingers through my hair lovingly. I don't understand, I haven't known the body for very long, why would I be feeling like this? People have always told me feelings like this always develop over time, they don't happen in _four weeks_!

Yet, I feel this way. Which is CONFUSING and DRIVING ME INSANE! Why? That is the one question I can ask myself: why are you feeling like this? Mello, you barely know him, 'Mello' isn't his real name. But, neither is Matt. Matt is just as much of a lie as Mello is, and I doubt we will ever truly know each other. We live in Wammy's for Zelda's sake! We're training to be the next L, we will never be able to truly be ourselves because we're going to become the replacement of someone _else_, we won't be able to be ourselves because it would be against the 'job description': Be L, don't tell anyone your name, pretend to be L, solve crimes and then probably die by the hands of a criminal.

Yet, I want Mello to know me, I want Mello to know that I'm Mail Jeevas, not Matt. I want to know him, I want to know his name, his thoughts, his mind his heart, his soul and his all. I want him to know my every fear, I want to know his every fear; I want him to know who I am, I want to know who he is. There is something here, I can sense it, but what _it _is, I'm not sure. I don't even know if he's gay! He might be, the chance is slim, but he still might be. I hope he is, because it would mean I wouldn't have to push my feelings down to the bottom of my heart and watch him kiss the lips of some other girl. I don' t want that, I want him to be kissing me, not a girl. Oh Zelda, it could even be Linda! That would be the worst thing I can think of, watching them make out in front of me, neither of them knowing how I feel. Being the third-wheel in the relationship, and ending up all alone again, without someone to love me.

What I want is Mello to love me, the way I love him. Because that's the way I want it to be...

**I had to make Matt from Lichfield, because that's where I'm from! I just wanted people to know about our little LITTLE slice of boringness. Just because I'm sick of people asking whether Lichfield is an area in Birmingham! Well? Did I make Matt realise his feelings to soon? I wanted to make him realise it early on, but I didn't want to have a filler chapter because those annoy me. I used a time skip, so I think it's okay! PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews...**


	5. Chapter 4 (Part Two)

**Hello again! NotSure here, well, who'd you think it is? Well, Science exam out of the way, which is pretty awesome because, well, no exam! Which makes my life just the best thing in the world, I hate exams. I drank like two energy drinks before the exam, and I was a hyper, insane and demented. I also drank a lot of energy drinks. So, this is Mello's point of view on the last chapter, because I REALLY wanted to put this! **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Death Note, which is sad because I love Death Note, and owning it would just be soooooooo awesome!**

**Chapter Four (Part Two)- Loved**

**Mello POV (England)**

The airport is just too terrifying for words. There are way too many people for my liking, too many guns and too many people having to pat me down trying to find guns or bombs or illegal substances or drugs. I know it's important, but the feel of a grown man's hand against my chest and legs it not something I ever want to feel again. I order the soup and Watari buys me a bar of chocolate, which is very nice of him. Avel, and The Twins from Hell are absolutely terrified as we set off, and Anastasia simply closes her eyes and doesn't talk the whole time. The flight is uneventful, but long. I've never been on plane before, and I don't think I want to go on another one.

I've been speaking in English, thinking in English and everything so that I get used to speaking the language constantly. I know, because L told me, that none of the students at Wammy's know Russian, so I'll have to be speaking English all the time or no one will understand me. Well at least I can insult people without them knowing. After I woke up at the hospital, I've developed a short temper; I simply can't stand anything much. I'm not sure why, but, oh well, it happened. Also, I think I'm addicted to chocolate, now that I'm allowed to have it whenever I want. Well, whenever Watari finds out that I'm out, which takes a while because I don't want him to spend more on me than he already has, but he still finds a way to know when I've finished it all.

We then have the hour drive to Winchester, which is where Wammy's Orphanage is, and where Avel, Anastasia and the twins will be staying. I'm not sure I like this arrangement completely, but Anastasia told me stop worrying about them, and just do it because I never got anything else. I cried a little bit after that, but then she laughed and called me an idiot. The car's cramped, and L's strange seating position isn't helping things, also he keeps piling sweet packets on top of me, I haven't tried to take one; L gave me a dirty look when I eyed them. There is something mentally wrong with him, I'm pretty sure about that. He doesn't talk much, and when he does, it's clipped and short and mostly in random percentages that I don't understand.

The first thing I think about Wammy's is that it's frigging massive! This is an orphanage? Really? Are you sure about that? Russian orphanages are all metal and wires, this is more of a museum than a place for children. It's all wood, and old tiled roves and what I think is a lake? A frigging lake? This place is too much, and the inside is twice as bad. Watari leaves me and L in the company of an old (but younger than Watari) man, who says his name is Rodger. He gives L seven slices of cake and a few macaroons, which I assume is his normal diet, because I've never seen him eat anything other than sugary crap. We wait a while, Rodger says that Near and Matt will be here soon, and I can't tell whether I'm excited to meet them or whether I'm terrified. These two guys must be so clever, because they're here and they're L's successors. I feel a little, overwhelmed about the whole thing. Every other person on this whole wide earth would be.

The door slams open, and a boy with red hair, a Gameboy Colour, striped top and goggles enters. _Goggles? _Seriously? A pale, albino child follows with a toy robot in hand. I'm seriously doubting the sanity of these people, everyone must be mad. It's kinda like falling down the rabbit hole and ending up in Wonderland. _Everyone's _mad! The red head's head is aimed at me, but I can't tell if he's looking because of those stupid goggles of his. But, from what I can see of him, he's not that bad looking. Skinny frame, nice face but I can't tell what colour his eyes are, and the Gameboy Colour is kind of putting me off. The only nerds I've ever known where right idiots and I wouldn't touch them with a seventeen foot pole. Yeah, I went there.

"Matt, Near," L says, on his third slice of cake, "I hope you're well."

"Yes L," The albino child says. Is that drool? I think that's drool.

The red haired boy starts retching. A bit strange yes, but everything about these people screams of strangeness. Once the boy's finished dry heaving, L looks at him in this slightly amused, slightly concerned look.

"Matt, are you okay?" L asks, "I hope you are not becoming ill."

"I'm fine. I just had a weird thought," Matt replies, a smirk on his face

"What was that?" L points his fork at Matt, in a commanding kind of way

"Oh," The boy smirks again, which kind of sexy, just a little bit though, "Just Near using you as a sex toy."

"I hope Near doesn't do that," L shoves another piece of cake in his never ending stomach. What is actually wrong with these people? This isn't anything near a normal conversation. Once again, I think they're all mad, "Anyway, this is Mello, and he's going to be another possible successor."

Everything is a little quiet for a moment. If you could cut tension... you would have a grandmother-size, nonexistent slice of cake because it's not that tense. Just slightly tense, and not by much. The albino child, who I assume is Near, stands there with his mouth wide open in shock and what I think is surprise. His emotions are almost impossible to read, his face blank and I can't even read his eyes. Normally, I can tell what people are thinking from looking at their eyes, but Near I can't read. Matt, well his eyes are covered in goggles and I can't even see them so that doesn't really count.

"Matt," Roger interrupts the silence, "Mello will be your roommate. Can you show him around?"

"Yeah," Matt shakes his hair out of the way of his goggles, "Okay."

He nods at me and I pull my suitcase up and follow him out of the door. He doesn't say anything for a while, but I think he's just letting me take this place in properly. This place is fucking huge! The lobby is full of children running around the place, screaming and half of them are dragging boxes and other, smaller children behind them. Though, they seem a little bit out of place. A glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, beautiful red carpets cover the staircase and floors. The doors are all old fashioned with brass doorknobs and made of wood. Everything is grand and beautiful, so wrong for an orphanage and a place for young children.

"Need help with that?" Matt asks, pointing at my leather suitcase. It's old and hasn't been used for a very long time; Father didn't let us go on holidays, he said they were a massive waste of money and time. Not that we _had _money to waste, and most of Father's time was spent in the local pub with Maks. I shake my head, but he helps anyway. As he lifts up the other end of the suitcase, he grunts under the weight. I know it's heavy, this suitcase contains everything I've ever owned; minus the knife, L and Watari wouldn't let me take that with me. Watari threw it into the lake in anger, I wasn't sure if I was glad or whether I wanted it back.

"Thanks," I say as I turn around to look at him, "I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah," he laughs, it's a nice laugh, a kind one, "So, Russia huh?"

"Yeah," I don't look at him this time, not wanting him to see the emotions in my eyes, "I'm from Moscow."

"What's it like?"

"Cold, wet, terrible, racist, communist, homophobic. Need I go on?" I chuckle, and I know it sounds a little heartless, "You?"

"England," He replies, I just ask out of politeness because he's so obviously not foreign, "Lichfield actually."

"Where's Lichfield, I've never heard of it?" I look back at him, interested now because Lichfield isn't somewhere I know about

"It's a few miles south of Birmingham," He laughs to himself, "Small place, nothing interesting to do. Unless you want to wonder around a big ass Cathedral or learn about Dr Johnston. No cinema, no arcade, no nothing. Good for old people. And they do put on some good plays at the Garrick Theatre."

"Sounds... boring," I say, because I don't want to lie, he laughs

"Yeah, you got that right!" He laughs with me. I know my laugh sounds a little strained, I think this is the first time I've laughed so much in a very long time.

He leads me to our dorm and when I see it, I literally have to hold in the sick. Socks. Socks are just everywhere, clothes are thrown all over the floor and the walls and the ceiling. Game SINS, if that's the right word, are in every single corner and every spot that isn't covered with dirt or grime. One bed is covered in food stains and red hair, and the one I assume is mine isn't made, even though I was told no one had lived with Matt before. He's such a dirty person, and I think that's coffee on the ceiling. I don't know how that got there, and that red stain is just as weird. A few plates have been dropped on the floor, and they're going mouldy and are all green.

And that _smell_! What even is that? A mixture of sweat and boy and mould and off food. The whole room just gives off the smell of 'I don't care' and laziness. Which are similar, but slightly different. There's something else as well, a kind of smoky smell that shouldn't be there but is. The rest of Wammy's didn't smell like this, only this room and Matt. Yeah, just Matt and his room have that distinctive smell that I can't place. Seriously, what the hell _is _that!? It's just disgusting and a little weird, but it smells of _Matt_. It's like he wouldn't be the same without that smell, I haven't known him for an hour but I don't think he'd be him without that smell. It's like it's a part of him, along with his goggles, the Gameboy and the stripes.

"So..." I trail off, trying to hide my laughter, "It's obvious you care so much about personal hygiene,"

"Okay, that's your bed," He points at the bed on the left, and throws his stuff on the floor, just making even more mess.

"Thanks, Matt I am..."

"Wait," He holds up his hands, stopping me from actually thanking him, "I have some rules if you're going to be living with me."

"Okay, what are they?" He sits down on his bed between the pillows and the bed sheets that are messy and unmade. I sit down opposite him, on my bed.

"One," He starts, slightly growling, "Don't touch any of my games. I'm being serious! You touch my games and you're fucking dead, got that?"

"Yeah," I nods, slightly worried, he's gone from calm, to annoyed in one second. It's a little frightening.

"Two," He hisses, a little angrier now, "Don't mention anything that happens in this room to anyone EVER! And three, don't you dare EVER, FUCKING EVER tell anyone about my cigarettes!"

"You smoke?" I ask. Oh, _that's_ what that smell is! I should have realised sooner, with Father smoking for the whole time I can remember, and Maks joining him when he was old enough to buy them.

"Yeah," He growls, teeth showing like a shark, "Got a problem with that?"

"No," I look down at the floor, I wasn't prepared for questions, "I have a brother and a father who smoke. I'm okay with it."

"Well the others wouldn't and I wouldn't like it if you told someone!" He yells, but not too loudly because he obviously doesn't want anyone to hear, "So you have to promise to never tell anyone and keep the secret to your grave, okay?"

"Okay," I nod, reassuring him, "Any other rules?"

"Nope. Wait, yeah. You have to tell everyone you see the ghost of A. Don't ask, just do."

I look at him funny, and he laughs at me. Who is A? That's a little strange, though, L is just as strange. This whole place is strange, everything about this is strange. I just can't wait for everything to become a little bit more normal.

"Can I ask who A is?" I ask, serious now because I really want to know A is.

"Yeah..." Matt looks at the floor now, "A was the first ever successor to L, he and B lived in this room. They were best friends and they were genii, but the pressure of trying to become L drove one of them to suicide and the other to insanity."

"I think L mentioned this, he said one of the students turned insane and one of them committed suicide," He nods at me, I smile, his face falls and I stop smiling. Okay, things are a little more serious that I first thought.

"B, the one who went insane, became a murder. I don't think you'd have heard of the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases?" I shake, "Wara Ningyo Murders?" I shake again, "Locked Room Killings?" I nod, he nods back at me, "Well that was B, he was challenging L and tried to make a case he couldn't solve."

"That's a bit strange," I muse, I love how weird things are right now. He laughs a little bit more, but there isn't any humour in his voice.

"Everything about him was strange, you see that stain?" He points at the ceiling, and I nod in agreement, "That's a Jam stain, B loved Jam. Apparently, he could eat twenty jars in one day."

"That's a lot of jam," I chuckle a little. Jam, once again I think these people are all mad. A lot of Jam, strawberry jam and the thought of it all makes me feel a little sick to the stomach. Just the picture of all the red, sticky,_ sweet _thing makes me want to throw up. Red, red is not a good colour, I've never liked the colour red. Though, the consistency isn't right, the colour just reminds me of blood and the feel of the many beatings I've received from my father. Matt seems to be enjoying feel of comfortable silence, the silence only people who are comfortable with each other can enjoy.

The next three hours are filled with a mixture of light conversation, laughter and heavy conversations filled with awkwardness. The awkward conversations were filled with questions about my past, Matt wanted to know about Russia and my life there. I didn't want him to know what happened there, I don't want anyone to know what happened there because it's too awful. Everything was awful, the whole my life so far has been awful. Only Avel, The Twins from Hell and Anastasia ever truly made my life less awful, because they were the only ones who ever loved my. I don't count Maks, Mother or Father, because if they'd have ever loved me, they would never have left me when I told them I was gay. That isn't love, because when you start loving someone, you never stop.

"I think we should go down to the Dining Room," He says, standing up and stretching his muscles. He's thin, just as thin as I am to be honest. I can see the bones in his neck bone when his top slips down, he's really thin,"Food will be ready soon."

"Yeah," I say, I'm not hungry but I know I have to eat to keep my body going. I've just learnt how to survive on very little food, because that's all I've ever had.

The floor actually shakes as we walk down the corridors. How many people can be in this place? Children running, is literally making the whole place shake, and it's not like this place has thin walls or is small enough to be shaken by people easily. Children are running everywhere, I stand close to Matt, almost clinging to him in fear. Too many people, too much physical contact. I don't like it, it's like the airport or even something worse. It's like people are actually trying to run into me and even though I know they aren't trying to hurt me, I still flinch as one comes too close.

We reach the Dining Room, and we grab the food. Chicken, potatoes and vegetables, not the kind of food I'm used to, but I've had a little English food. I'm not a big fan of chicken, but I pick at it and eat a carrot. Matt eats a little more, but not by much. We make a strange pair to be honest, two orphans who don't eat, live in a place for genii and have pasts that are messed the hell up. Matt's past must be as messed up as mine is, or even more messed up. He lives in an Orphanage for fucks sake! I know people have worse lives than mine; I know that because everyone has their own personal slice of hell. Everyone has a part of the soul that has been tortured beyond all measure, because that's what makes someone human. You can't be human without some part of you being insane, or messed up or even evil, because without that, you would never know what was good or what was bad.

"So, this is the new kid?" A girl, with black hair and brown eyes asks as she slams down her plate. Matt doesn't look up from his food, that he isn't eating.

"Yeah," Matt nods, downing his juice

"I'm Mello," I say, covering my mouth because it's full and Mother was always big on manners, "You?"

"Oh," Matt laughs, pointing at the girl, "This is Linda, she's insane."

"Thanks Matty!" She chucks a piece of mash at Matt, who then throws a carrot at her, "This is Matt, and he's a loner who only has his Pokémon as friends."

"I guessed that when I saw his Gameboy Colour," I chuckle "And his Nintendo SIN and all the other gaming crap he has."

"Yeah," Linda nods, "You should see all his comic books, it's _literally _insane!"

"Comic books?" I snicker, trying not to burst out laughing

"Thanks for making me look like a nerd..." Matt trails off, making Linda giggle like the girl she is

"Matt, you're already a nerd," She adds, pointing her fork at him, "You don't need me to make you look like one! I mean, come on! Stripes, that jacket, Gameboy, Comic Books, goggles and..." She trails off, stopping for some reason, "Sorry."

"It's okay," Matt laughs, but is sounds forced and strained, like he's just doing it for the sake of it "Change of subject now?"

"Okay."

Linda eats really fast, scoffing everything down in three minutes. She eats everything though, whereas Matt and I still have almost all of our food left. She's not fat, not skinny and definitely not anorexic. She's normal but from what Matt said, she's weird and probably slightly insane. I followed the two into what was labelled The Common Room. I'm not sure what that translates to, because I never learnt those words. I know what 'the' and 'room' means, but I have no idea what the word 'common' means in this context; I get an English to Russian dictionary soon and work it out. From what I can tell, it's a place for the students to socialise and hang out together. Matt jumps onto the sofa and Linda pulls a sketch book and a few pencils from the bag she had thrown over her shoulder.

I'm a bit lost for moment, not sure what to do for awhile, but I almost fly three foot into the air when I see the fridge. I walk, wait _run_ to the fridge and fling it open. It's full of sugary crap, sweets, candy, crisps, Mikado Sticks, Pringles, Dr Pepper, Coke, Tango and chocolate. Chocolate? Oh my God, that's _Belgium Chocolate_! With 70 percent coco, red wrapper and shining. I grab them all, screw the others, it's mine. That's seven bars. As I sit down, Matt stares at the bars in my hand in disgust and I have to hold down the laughter, because that face is a little funny, and a little sexy. Seriously? Why does that word keep coming up in my words to describe Matt. That's a bit strange, but I have to admit, it's true. Yeah, Matt is really sexy, in a different way. Not that I know what the normal way that sexy is described as.

Near, L's other successor stares at me quite a bit, with those creepy, grey eyes that I have to admit are a little scary. I've never seen eyes like his before, filled with nothing but still containing so much emotion it makes me uneasy. He never smiles, never frowns and never shows any emotions. It's the blankness I think, it's the blankness that's making me uneasy. I'm only used to people who explode with emotions, who reveal everything they feel in their eyes. Father's emotions were always visible, you could always read him, though when you read it, you could only see the anger he had. The anger for me.

Matt and I somehow, become friends over the course of the next three weeks. He's really quiet, and a total nerd but he's a good guy. Though, he does have his own little quirks. He likes to drop things out of the window onto people's heads to see how much they hurt; he plays games from the time the alarm goes off, to the moment sleep over comes him and he has to sleep. He smokes too, he smokes a lot. He goes through seven packets a week, and all of his money is spent cigarettes or video games. He's addicted to video games as well; Halo, Pokémon, Final Fantasy and other games that I can't name because there's just so many of them. He has a Gameboy Colour, a DS, a PS 3 and Nintendo SINS that I'm not going to name just because I really don't want to pick up on Matt's nerd-talk.

I get annoyed so easily now, people can just say one thing and I'll storm off and swear at them in Russian. Sometimes, people ask about Russia, so I tell them the simplest of answers and if the ask for more, I just ignore them completely. Some secrets are best left untold, because they're too horrific and too terrible for anyone else to be burdened with. Some secrets are better if you keep them to yourself, some secrets stay with you forever because you never tell anyone. What happened in Russia is now that secret, a secret that no one is _ever _going to know. Well, I might tell someone, because I think if the secret stays only with me I think I might go insane. Even more insane than I am.

Matt seems to have dodged my anger, I don't know how or why I don't get angry at him, but he somehow escapes my wrath. I think it's because he's just as messed up as I am. Kids seem to ignore him, and if they do acknowledge him, it's with pitying stares. I don't understand those looks, Matt told me to just ignore them because they're stupid, but I know that Matt doesn't like them. He only takes his goggles off when he sleeps, and I've never seen his eyes but I know I want to. His Cancer-Sticks, as I've so lovingly names his cigarettes are always shoved in his mouth every moment we have alone or in our room. He smells of cigarettes all the time, but it smells good and I'm not quite sure how. He picked up on my addiction to chocolate, and makes sure we always have some in our room for when I run out. Which is now like all the time because I can buy my own and not worry about owing people money.

Matt doesn't sleep very much. He spends his whole time playing on his PS3 or his Gameboy, yelling at a soldier or some Pokémon with a really retarded name. Seriously, those names are a little strange. I don't sleep either, trying to keep away the nightmares. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, Father appears above me, knife in hand and laughing his head off as he plunges it into my chest. My life now consists of chocolate, Matt, trying to beat Near how obviously hates me and doesn't see me as a threat and I'm going to prove him wrong. I never want to be considered unimportant again, so Near _is _going to be beaten by me.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

My eyes snap open as a scream echoes around the room. I shoot up, ready to attack whoever is making that noise. It goes silent for a second, but then the screaming starts again, louder and higher pitched. The noise is awful, it hurts my ears and my eardrums are going to break if that noise gets any louder. I switch on the lamp, trying to see what in God's name is happening. I look around, and see Matt screeching his head off and thrashing around. He's a sleep, his eyes are closed and it's obvious he's having a nightmare. A really bad nightmare, because his screaming is going to kill me in a minute. I jump out of bed, and walk over to him. I know he needs to be woken up, because I'm not going to leave him in whatever hell he's landed up in, in his sleep.

"Matt?" I stroke his face, trying to stir him awake,

"Matt?" I press on his shoulders now, normal this would wake Avel up

"Matt?" I shake his arm, but still he keeps on screaming that high pitched, heart breaking scream

"Matt?" I punch his chest a little, because he just isn't waking up and I can't let him stay like this

"Matt?" I shake his whole body, making him look like a striped worm. He slept in his clothes again, just like normal

"MATT!" I scream at him now, and he screams back as he shoots up, finally awoken from that nightmare.

I stare at him, his eyes are covered by his beautiful red hair. If I could only make myself move his hair and see those eyes that I've always wanted to see. He doesn't say anything for a moment, breathing hard in fear, exhaustion and relief. I know how good it is to be woken up from a nightmare, and I know how grateful you are to the person who wakes you.

"Matt?" I look at him, trying to seem kind but also trying to see through his hair, "Are you okay? You were talking and thrashing around in your sleep, I thought you were having a fit or something."

"It's okay," He whispers, shaking his head half heartedly, like he's only doing it for the sake of it, "Just a nightmare, it's okay."

"It didn't sound okay," I shake now, trying to get him to talk about it, "You were screaming and everything."

"This is an orphanage you know!" He shouts at me, I fly up off the bed in fear, "Sorry,"

"It's fine," I nod and smile at him, though I'm not sure if he can actually see me behind that lovely hair, "Want to talk about it?"

"No," He shakes again, with more emotion and surety now, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sure?" I ask, I think he wants to talk about it, but is too afraid "You don't have to tell me everything?"

"Okay..." He trails off, and I climb onto the bed next to him, ready to reassure him if he needs it.

"So, what was your nightmare about?"

"My mum," He whispers, so that I can barely hear it, "It was my mum."

"What about your mum?"

"Just," He shudders and lets out a pained sigh, "She used to lock me up in the wardrobe when I was little."

"Okay," I smile a reassuring smile, I wish Matt didn't have to go through child abuse like I did, he's too nice of a person, "Why did she do that?"

"Because I'm disabled," He tells me, my eyes widen in shock.

"How?" I ask, this doesn't make any sense because he does _not _look disabled, "You don't look it."

"No, it's my eyes," He looks up, and I breath in in shock. One of his eyes is the pearly white/ grey of off milk, the other is the shining green of polished emeralds. It's beautiful, and to be honest, it's the green one that shocks me the most. It's just, so full. So full of emotion and fear and pain and every other emotion in between. I love that eye. The other, well, I can barely describe that eye. It's insane how white it is, like pure white snow, "I can't see out of the white one, and the other is really sensitive to light because the pupil doesn't work."

"Okay," I nod and smile, trying to reassure him and myself, because I was not ready for this, "I know something like that can be hard."

"Huh?" He grunts, I smile. I'm not sure why I'm smiling, but here I am, smiling like a retard.

"My dad abused me from when I was fourteen," I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but in reality I'm screaming because I didn't think I'd be telling Matt this secret so sooner after I met him.

"Oh," He mutters, he looks down like he's sad or sorry for me. I don't really want his pity,"I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay," I chuckle a little bit, because I have that one thing that made everything okay, "I have my siblings."

"I never had any siblings, I was an only child, my mum never wanted kids in the first place but when she got pregnant with me she couldn't have an abortion because of her religion. Then when I was born, and the doctors said I was disabled she hated me more that she did before I was born."

"I have five siblings an older sister, an older brother, and three younger brothers," I laugh and he smiles at me, like he's glad.

"Sounds crazy," He chuckles a bit.

"It was," I laugh "Especially when two of your brothers are the 'Twins from Hell'."

"Twins from Hell?" He laughs, really loudly to be honest.

"Yeah," I stop laughing, but I'm still smiling like an idiot, "Then we had a dog, and then my other brother was born and everything exploded into chaos!"

"I can imagine. What are you, the Vontrap Family?" We both start laughing then. I don't really get the joke, but it's his laugh that's making me laugh really.

I stay there for a while, I wait until his breathing slows and he calms down. I wait until it feels like I'm leaving because I don't to be with him, but really, I want to curl up next to him and wrap my arms around him. I want to stay there with him all night, I want to be there with him and comfort him as he comforts me. I really don't want to go back to my bed, but after a while I go back out of sheer politeness. Because he might get a bit weirded out, even though I really don't want to leave that spot. What's happening to me? I've been alone my whole life, I don't need another person with me, I can cope on my own because that's how it's always been. I don't need to get close to another person, because that person will do nothing but hurt me. Because that's how it's always been.

But yet, Matt seems different and I want him in more ways than I've wanted anyone else before. I've wanted friends and a family that loves me my whole life, I've wanted someone who will care for me, like me and talk to me in a way that doesn't hurt my heart. But Matt? I want Matt to warm me, to break the walls I've put around me heart and take me by the hand and kiss me. I want Matt to take everything I am; heart, mind, body and soul. I want Matt to _love _me. I want Matt to kiss me cheek, stroke my face and pull his fingers through my hair lovingly. I don't understand, I haven't known the body for very long, why would I be feeling like this? People have always told me feelings like this always develop over time, they don't happen in _four weeks_!

Yet, I feel this way. Which is CONFUSING and DRIVING ME INSANE! Why? That is the one question I can ask myself: why are you feeling like this? Matt, you barely know him, 'Matt' isn't his real name. But, neither is Mello. Mello is just as much of a lie as Matt is, and I doubt we will ever truly know each other. We live in Wammy's for God's sake! We're training to be the next L, we will never be able to truly be ourselves because we're going to become the replacement of someone _else_, we won't be able to be ourselves because it would be against the 'job description': Be L, don't tell anyone your name, pretend to be L, solve crimes and then probably die by the hands of a criminal.

Yet, I want Matt to know me, I want Matt to know that I'm Miheal Keehl, not Mello. I want to know him, I want to know his name, his thoughts, his mind his heart, his soul and his all. I want him to know my every fear, I want to know his every fear; I want him to know who I am, I want to know who he is. There is something here, I can sense it, but what _it _is, I'm not sure. I don't even know if he's gay! He might be, the chance is slim, but he still might be. I hope he is, because it would mean I wouldn't have to push my feelings down to the bottom of my heart and watch him kiss the lips of some other girl. I don' t want that, I want him to be kissing me, not a girl. Oh God, it could even be Linda! That would be the worst thing I can think of, watching them make out in front of me, neither of them knowing how I feel. Being the third-wheel in the relationship, and ending up all alone again, without someone to love me.

What I want is Matt to love me, the way I love him. Because that's the way I want it to be...

**Okay, please don't take the last bit as pure laziness, because I thought it would be pretty cool if Matt and Mello were thinking exactly the same thing, but slightly different. Well, because it would be awkward it Mello wanted Mello to love him, because that would just be a bit messed up. So, please review! SIX REVIEWS IS NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE! Okay, I REALLY need to calm down don't I? Just eating Jam, because I wanted to see what it would be like to be Beyond Birthday. I'm now super hyper and feel kinda sick. I WONT be trying THAT again. I don't know how BB does it! **


	6. Chapter 5

**OMG, I hit 450 views and almost had a heart attack, it was a pretty awesome moment. And thanks for your lovely reviews! It's really nice to feel wanted, you guys /girls/ both/ shipping nerds/ fangirls/ fanboys/ downright weirdoes are just brilliant as hell! Science AND Spanish exams out of the way, only Science in May and I'm done for the year! Well, on with the story, yeah it's a pretty awful chapter, but suffering from severe Writers Block at the moment, so please don't hate me.**

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own Death Note, or a fish, or a horse or A Death Note, though I do have seven full-proof plans to kill people. Um, yeah, I'm a bit twisted. Well you have to be to threaten to shove a keyboard up someone's arse because he wouldn't stop playing the same three notes. **

**Chapter Five- Wanted**

**Mello POV (Russian)**

Three months, we've been here three months and nothing has happened. Father hasn't found us, Maks hasn't called though Anastasia had hidden an untraceable phone's number in his diary that she had found. I'm not sure I want Maks to call, he's my brother and I love him but he still abandoned me and hated me when Father told him to. Though, I still want him to find us, so that I can get him to explain why he followed Father for four years like a sheep. For three months, I've actually had a friend, Matt, the first friend I've ever had. He's an absolute nerd, he smells of cigarettes, likes to drop paint onto people's heads out of the window, shy and a complete weirdo but he's still awesome. He's brilliant, smart, and without even knowing me he still knows everything about me.

Three months I've been living a lie.

Sometimes, I wish I was back in Russia, where at least I could be myself, not lie about my name, not lie about everything I am. Then I sober up and realise that here in England is the best place for me to be, not off in Moscow being shunned and despised and beaten because of who I am. Why, I really don't understand because sometimes I want to go back, and sometimes I want to stay here and never leave Winchester. It doesn't make any sense in my head, sometimes I want to be here and sometimes I really don't. People are nicer here, they don't hate you or despise you or beat you just because of who you are.

In the past three months, I've learnt a lot about the red haired gamer/ nerd called Matt. One, he plays too many games that are going to rot his brain, two he smokes way too much and three: he has too many nightmares for one person. He wakes up screaming almost every night, dripping with sweat, exhausted and terrified. From what I've learnt of Matt's mother, I'm not surprised he has nightmares. He told me he was found by L after being locked in The Wardrobe (yeah it needs capital letters) for four weeks, starving, malnourished and lying in his own filth and tears. I think I cried a little after he told me that, it was just too sad.

To be honest, we both have nightmares. We rarely sleep, and when we do its short and interrupted with either our own or the other's nightmares. Night, night is our time. Night the time when we comfort each other, when we get to be ourselves and get to be honest with each other. We rarely have a night when we don't need to be comforted, we never have a night when we don't talk about _who _we are and who we were. It sounds gay yeah, and it kind of is. I found out that Matt was gay from Linda, because she quickly discovered that I drive on the 'other side of the road' so to speak. Linda keeps dropping little hints after that, mentioning that we would be 'good as more than friends'. I wish we were, but I don't think we have time for that kind of thing.

"Miheal? Earth to Miheal?" I shoot up, and slam my face right into Anastasia's head. She groans in pain and it takes me a while to realise that I was day dreaming, "God, what's with you today? You've been out for ages, I've being calling your name for five minutes!"

"Sorry," I need to get my brain in gear, Russian Miheal, you're speaking Russian, "I've just got a lot of stuff on my mind."

"Yeah," Anastasia nods, I can hear the bitterness in her voice, "I noticed."

"Sorry." I mutter, hanging my head, because I should be thinking about my siblings, and not Matt. It's wrong, just so so wrong.

"It's okay," I feel her arms wrap around my waist in comfort; "I missed you, Miheal."

"I missed you too," I whisper back, "I wish I could see you more."

"Well," Anastasia pulls back, looking at me with her loving brown eyes, "You get to have an amazing education, which is really good because you can be whatever you want to be."

"I'm going to be L," I say, and she smiles at me, glad I finally have some dream or goal to be going towards.

"Then no one will ever touch you," she nods, reassuring herself more than me, I can tell, it's written in her eyes: she's worried about me. I'm worried about me. She then whispers, almost as if it physically hurt her to say, "No one will hurt him, just believe that."

"Miha!" Yurik yells as he runs through the door, Oleg and Avel in tail. If they had tails they would be wagging at double time, because they look so happy. They're lovely, childish innocent eyes that still hide the horror and pain of what Father did. I know it hurt them too, I know they suffered from the knife as well, but in such a different way to how it hurt me. It's so unfair, how much the knife hurt our whole family in so many different ways.

"Miha!" Oleg jumped on my lap, Avel jumped on his and then Yurik landed next to me, his legs wrapped around my knee innocently, they're all smiling and cheerfulness. If only they knew, if only they knew that Father would find us soon, because he's not an idiot as long as he was sober, and he's definitely going to notice that five of his kids are missing.

"We missed you!" Avel wraps his arms around my waist, his now thicker arms felt good. After three months they've all put on weight, but even with all the chocolate I've stayed as skinny as ever. I wish I could put on some weight, it would make Anastasia worry about me a little less.

"It's only been a week!" I laugh, Avel shakes his head, "That's not too long is it?"

"Yeah it is!" Avel insists, shouting a little to get his point across, "We barely see you now!"

"Well, I miss you too," I tickle his belly and he laughs, "And I come every weekend!"

"We used to see you every day..." Oleg complains, "Now we only see you at the weekends..."

"I know," I say and ruffle his lovely black hair, it's long now, I guess it hasn't been cut in a while, "I worry about you lot you know."

"It's okay," Anastasia laughs unknowingly, "We just miss you Miha, it's not like something bad is going to happen."

"Yeah," I say, nodding only to myself, "You're safe."

For now.

**Matt POV (English)**

Mello's gone, visiting his family off somewhere and I'm sitting here all alone because it's either being by myself or being with Linda. Which, unsurprisingly, is not where I want to be. Linda told me a while back that Mello was gay, which made my heart jump a little, but he hasn't mentioned it so I'm not going to mention it. Ever since, Linda's been saying how cute we are together, how good a couple we'd make and how we should 'totally get together!'. How about no. I don't have time for a boyfriend right now, I finally saved up to buy _Hitman Reborn_ that came out last month and I'm a bit busy trying to beat this thing. I have the sound down on silent, because I finally downloaded Black Veil Brides: Wretched and Divine, the Story of the Wild Ones. Yeah, I like BVB. So sue me. _Days are Numbered_ comes on, blaring out guitars and just the pure awesomeness that is Andy Sixx. His voice, literally gave me an orgasm once. That's a secret, don't tell anyone okay? Suddenly, I have to start singing.

_Before your life is over, know this to be true_

_All the hate we hold inside still won't save your youth_

_Don't waste your time on tragedy, easy to forget_

_Time that's lost enemies fought are worth the price to live_

_One day at a time, one day at a time_

_Listen when we're calling_

_Your time has arrived_

_Our days are numbered in the world of fools_

_We feel the hunger and follow no one's rules_

_Everybody wants eternal life and nobody can seem to get it right, oh,_

_Our days are numbered and you're no fool, nobody's fool_

_Man worships the gospel that they preach to you_

_Living like a demon, a burden left to prove_

_You can live your life in heaven or create your hell_

_We will write our end result with every tale we tell_

_One day at a time, one day at a time_

_Listen when we're calling_

_Your time has arrived_

_Our days are numbered in the world of fools_

_We feel the hunger and follow no one's rules_

_Everybody wants eternal life and nobody can seem to get it right, oh,_

_Our days are numbered and you're no fool, nobody's fool_

_These steps we take to be fearless are yours, life is yours_

_When death's at stake you'll be fearless, be sure, life is yours_

_Our days are numbered in a world of fools_

_We feel the hunger and follow no one's rules_

_Everybody wants eternal life and nobody can seem to get it right, oh,_

_Our days are numbered and you're no fool, nobody's fool_

_Nobody's fool_

_I'm nobody's fool_

Dear Zelda, this band just sings to my fucking _soul! _Just so fucking powerful. I open my eyes, not realising I'd closed them and the Game Over sign glares at me on the screen. Shit, I lost. Okay, click reset and start playing again. The next three hours go just like this; play the game, fail, restart, fail a little further along, restart, fail, give up and scream at the wall, have a cigarette, play the game, fail, restart, fail a little further along, restart, fail, give up and scream at the wall, have a cigarette, play the game... You get the point.

Getting a bit bored without Mello here now, the room seems too big now. Before, I could sit here alone for hours and play my games, but now without the scent of his chocolaty breath breathing down my neck as he watches me play the room seems lonelier. Without his being slouched on the desk studying, the room seems a little too big without _him _here; everything's a little bit too empty. Eventually, I give up on the game. I'll finish it later, I can start it again and _then _I can beat it! Maybe Mello knows how to play this game. Pfft! AS IF! That boy does not have an ounce of 'gamer' in his body. I don't think his leather and long blonde hair will allow that. Well, I wonder how much he actually knows about gaming anyway?

Suddenly, another song comes on, I left the album on constant repeat, it's going to play over and over and over again. Yeah, I really love this band. And I'm not an emo, fuck you! But this is a special song, one close to my heart. It kind of a song that just speaks to me, so I sing it, sing it loud and I don't worry about who hears me.

_Born a saint _

_But with every sin I still want to be holy _

_I will live again _

_Who we are _

_Isn't how we live we are more than our bodies _

_If I fall I will rise back up and relive my glory _

_In the end as you fade into the night _

_Oh whoa oh _

_Who will tell the story of your life _

_Oh whoa oh _

_And who will remember your last goodbye _

_Oh whoa oh _

_Cause it's the end _

_And I'm not..._

"Matt?" Mello laughs, I jump at the sound of his voice at the door, somehow I can hear him over the music and myself. I stop singing, "What the actual _fuck_ are you singing?"

"It's called _In The End, _Mell," I shake my head in exacerbation, "By Black Veil Brides, by the way."

"Who are Black Veil Brides?" He asks, his head tilted in interest

"Did you seriously just ask _that?" _I ask, but then I realise something, "Oh yeah, they haven't hit Russia yet."

"So...?"

"BVB, they're literally just pure awesomeness mixed with emotion and a great big mah_oo_sive dollop of sexiness on the side. They're a band, and I think you might like them. Considering the leather and shit."

"What has leather got with it?" He chuckles a little, he looks happy and almost wistful, I guess he had a good time.

"Nothing." I say, laughing a little, it's so easy to laugh when he's around, "Anyway, what you know about _Hitman Reborn_?"

"What do you think?" He gestures at himself, leather trousers, leather jacket, white shirt under a black hoodie and big, black military boots. He's all pale white skin, hair and skinny bones that somehow still look curvy. Mello told me his father wouldn't let him eat much food. Bastard. Okay, I think Mello beats BVB in the sexiness department. Wait, he wins hands down with no shadow of a doubt. And that's saying something, because I used to think those guys were the epitome of sexiness. I guess I was wrong. Very. Wrong.

"Okay, stupid question," He scoffs and nods, "How's everyone?"

"Good," He smiles his cute little, loving smile that only his family get to see. I don't count because he's only thinking of them right now, I doubt he even knows I'm here, "Though they miss me."

"Naw!" I put on a fake, girly accent, "Does poor little Mello-kins miss his ickle family?"

"Fuck off Matty," He throws a pillow at me, then freezes when he realises he's just used a nickname for me, "That, was weird."

"Nah, it's okay," I laugh, I'm not sure why but I like that nickname when it comes from him, "I kinda like it."

"Well, okay Matty."

"Well, okay Mells."

"That's really gay, you guys do know that, don't you?" Linda suddenly jumps onto Mello's bed, making both of us jump out of our skins, "Oh wait, you don't have to worry about that do you?"

We both glare at her, well, Mello does and I simply look at her from behind my goggles.

"You are both gay." Linda says, "It's not like you have to worry about appearing a little camp. It's not like someone's going to kill you for it!"

And Mello drops to the floor, out like a light.

"What did I say?" Linda stares as I go over to the blonde, I shake his shoulder, trying to stir him. This is a little concerning. Someone doesn't just faint for no reason, it doesn't happen.

"It's his..." I stop myself from telling her, I know Mells won't want everyone knowing about what happened over in Russia, "Just go get Rodger, tell him Mello fainted."

With that she's gone, leaving me alone with the unconscious blonde Russian, who I pick up and throw him onto the bed. I tried to put him down carefully, but it's hard because I have no upper-body strength, so my arms just collapse under his weight, even though he doesn't way much. He weighs almost nothing at all. I pull a chair up beside the bed, not wanting to leave him. When he's asleep, he looks so broken, so vulnerable and so delicate, like a flower. A Russian, badass, chocolate addicted, screwed up flower. Maybe he's a black rose, dark and hellish, but still beautiful and delicate all at the same time. Those flowers would match him perfectly, mirroring and contrasting at the exact same moment.

Oh, since when was I a poet?

Rodger and the nurse come a few minutes later, I explain what happened, the nurse checks Mello over, takes his temperature. She says he's just unconscious, that he'll wake up soon, probably with a headache and I should tell her when he wakes up. Then her and Rodger leave, and just like that I'm alone with him again. I stay, I don't pull out a game or even turn on the music, I simply watch and wait for him to wake up again. I start stoking his blonde hair, it's just as soft as I imagined it would be and it's so fine and so perfect. I stare at his calm face and smile at how peaceful he is. Before, even when he was asleep, his face was always sad, always scared and _always _broken. I'm pretty happy with myself, I think I fixed him. Even if it was only just by a little bit.

I move down to his arm, I want to stroke his wrist, but it's covered in those black wristbands of his. I pause for a moment, I shake myself and start unclipping them, top ones to the bottom. Each _snap _is a little too ominous, a little too loud, like a countdown to something terrible. Then I see it, a thin white line stretching across his wrist. My breath hitches in my mouth, everything freezes for a moment, but I continue unsnapping those bands, quicker and more urgently now. I stare at his wrist again, not quite believing what I see. There are _hundreds _of them! Line after line after line after line after line after line, stretching across his arm and his wrist. I can't believe it. The lines are sometimes crossed over each other, obviously when he finally ran out of room on his arm, sometimes they're broken in little dots, sometimes they're so obviously sawed in, some are pure clean lines without break. All are absolutely heart breaking. I'm not sure what's worse: that he did this to himself, or that his father drove him to this. Bastard, if I ever meet that bastard I'm going to kill him. He doesn't even deserve to be called Mello's father, he's now Bastard. He's now just The Bastard.

Mello stirs, groaning a little as my hand slips and I drop his arm onto the wooden post of the bed. His ice-blue eyes flutter open, heavily lidded and pain-filled. Then, his eyes move over to his bands on the table, to his wrist, to me and back to his wrist again. His eyes snap open in fear and surprise and something else that I can't place. We don't talk for what seems like and age, we simply stay statue-still, frozen as we stare at the other. Mello's breath sounds almost painful to take in, my heart aches in horror, concern and what I think is love.

"Matt..." He tries to speak, but his words are almost sobs, broken and fearful. My heart, or what was once my heart, is broken into thousands of little pieces.

"Mello," I grab at his wrist and he winces in pain, "_Why?_"

"I just..." He sits up, I can see his arms shaking now, "I didn't know any other way..."

"But, this wasn't the way to do it Mells," I try and fight back the tears, but with no way of stopping them from falling, I abandon my goggles. It's dark enough in here for it not to hurt, and Mello looks a little guilty.

"I had no reason to do this," Mello mutters, and I hear him choke on the words, "You had it so much worse than me..."

"Shut up!" I scream at him jumping out of my chair, shattering the quiet hush we had created in fear of breaking the other, "Don't you dare fucking say that! You're saying your life wasn't bad? Well, let me tell you something, you're life is just about as fucked up as it possibly gets! So don't you _ever _fucking dare say your life was okay!"

"Matt, I..."

"No!" I yell, tears are now falling down my face and I couldn't give less of a fuck, and suddenly, I crash into calm and sit back down again and talk to him like any other normal person would, "Mello, I don't want to be angry at you, but, why didn't you tell me?"

Then, out of nowhere, his lips crash into mine. My eyes open so wide I'm afraid the skin will rip, but then I just melt into him and my eyes close, hiding my dirty little secret. He tastes, not surprisingly, of Belgium Chocolate, his lips are warm and clammy. But it's absolutely perfect. Every second adds more and more power into it, adds more emotion and just becomes better and better. I let everything out, every single little scrap of feeling I've ever had for the blonde, and it adds up to something great. The questions of _do I like him, do I want him, will he love me, what is this, why am I feeling like this, I wonder what it would be like to kiss him_, add up to something just explosive and something wonderful. Something more than just liking him, something more than just lust or attraction, something that adds up to _love. _He's just as into this as I am, he grazes the bottom of my lip with his tongue, asking for permission to enter, and I answer him eagerly. I open and my senses are filled with Mello, of chocolate and what hints of Vodka. Russians...

"Matt..." He breaths, and there's just one thing I want right now.

"Mail," I say and he stares at me, lips upturned in humour, "Mail Jeevas."

"Miheal," He pulls in for another kiss just before he adds, "Miheal Keehl."

"Miheal..." I mutter into his mouth, not bothering if he doesn't hear, "I love it."

"Mail, I love that too," He laughs a little, his voice husky and sexier than it normally is.

And the rest of the night? I'm not one to have sex and tell...

**Mello POV (English)**

I wake up warm, which surprises me a little. Then I see it, well, I see _him. _Mail, that name, I love that name, it somehow seems to match him perfectly, it works and contrasts and fits and is oversized and undersized, it's fixed and it's broken, it's perfect and imperfect. It does him justice, but it doesn't compare at all. For the love of God, it's just a name, it's not even important and it doesn't mean anything. Yet it's the most important thing in the world, and it means absolutely everything in this whole damn world.

Last night, from what I can remember, was brilliant. I don't care if anyone heard Matt's screams of pleasure as I topped him, I don't care if anyone heard us crying in a frenzy of lust and love. I don't care if everyone in this whole damn place knows about us, I don't care if no one knows. All I care about is that Matt Carters/ Mail Jeevas is now mine, he's my little guilty pleasure, mine and all mine and no one else's. I hear faint music in the background, and I realise that Matt left his music on. I stretch my arm a little, and turn it up slightly, just so I can hear it and a calming piano piece plays at me, it almost sends me to sleep but then the leader starts singing, and I just can't help myself, I have to listen. That voice is a little eerie, a little charming, a little sexy and just so emotional.

_The best things in life _

_Come with a price_

_The star that burned so bright faded the fastest_

_You'll always feel it's right_

_Even when we end the fight_

_Welcome home, home tonight_

_Singing ohhh, ohhh_

_Welcome home tonight_

_Ohhh ohh, tonight_

_Words they don't know how to make amends_

_And all they do is push you to the edge_

_But it's not wasted_

_It's all done for you_

_(Oh ohhh)_

_It's all done for you_

_(Oh ohhh)_

_It's all done for you_

_(Oh ohhh)_

_It's all done for you_

_Oh ohh_

I finally understand music.

"Guys!" Linda screams into our room as she bursts the door open, Matt sits up suddenly and groans as he smacks his head on the wooden post of the bed. Linda stares at us both sitting in the same bed, hair ruffled in that I-just-had-sex-way and naked, "Oh! My! God! You two, together? Really, when in God's name did this happen? Details! NOW!"

"What the shit do you want Linda?" Matt asks, his voice groggy, his goggles aren't on and he's squinting to stop the light from hurting so much, "It's like seven in the morning on a _Sunday_! I'm being serious, someone better be dead or else you will be."

"Mello's second place!" Linda cries gleefully, and Matt freezes like a statue

"He's what?" He asks, at the same moment I ask, "I'm what?"

"Mello is second place!" Linda squeals a little as she stares at us both again, a smile erupting from her insides, "Mello beat you Matt!"

"_Someone _explain what the hell is going on!?" I scream, interrupting the two, "I'm second place of what?"

"Second place in the Rankings," Linda explains, but continues as I tilt my head in question, "You really don't know anything, do you? Well, every month the Rankings of everyone in Wammy's is posted, and before you, the top two were Near and Matt. Now, it's the best _three _who get to see L at the end of the year. Everyone expected you to be fourth or third, but you came _second_! You beat Matt, now Near is the only one smarter than you! That means you're second in line to become L!"

"Really?" I ask incredulously, "I'm second?"

"Yes!" Linda squeals again. Really, that's frigging annoying, "You're second!"

"I'm second?" I don't really believe her, "Are you being serious?"

"Yes, why won't you believe me?" Linda asks, she sounds a little miffed about it, but I'm not going to explain why I can't believe her, "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

With that, she flounces out of our room and slams the door, her brown hair flying everywhere and her hips swaying in disgust. I sit there for a while, not quite sure what to do next. I'm fucking second place! This is just... I can't explain it. It's wonderful, I actually achieved something, I actually did something right I wish Father could see me now, so I could spit in his face and tell him I proved him fucking wrong, but I don't even care what he thinks of me anymore. I don't care that he hated, still probably hates, me and I don't care that he beat me, that he hurt me, that he tried to kill me, that he hurt my siblings. Because I did something _right, _I proved him _wrong! _I'm not worthless, I'm not stupid or good for nothing, I'm actually _worth _something! Too happy right now, way too happy. But, I've now proved that everything Father told me was wrong. Suck on that, bitch!

I feel a pair of thin arms wrap around me from behind me. Hair tickles the nape of my neck and I can smell Matt's distinctive smell. This is just wonderful, I've proven my father wrong _and _I finally have someone other than The Twins from Hell, Avel and Anastasia. I have six people, six people to love me. More than I ever thought I would have. We sit there like that for a while, I put my hand on top of his head and stroke that beautiful red hair that he really needs to cut. Oh, like I can really talk. I haven't cut my hair in like, three years and just let it grown in pure fear of leaving the house. Pure fear of leaving, pure fear of staying. I couldn't have won. Fighting a battle already lost, a battle that I should have never started, a battle I shouldn't have dared to join, a battle where it was just me fighting a thousand armies. I was fighting one that couldn't have been beaten alone. I won though, with the help I severely needed because without it, I would have given up completely. Not even bothered waking up in the morning, because there would be no point in living anymore.

"Wellone Miheal," I soft yet smoky voice says in my ear, barely annunciating words "I'mroud of you."

"Thanks," I mutter back, combing my hair through his hair that is surprisingly soft, "You're pretty amazing you know Mail."

"Yeah..." He trails, and I can hear the hint of disbelief in his voice. I know he doesn't believe.

"Yes." I twist around and stare him right in the eyes, and smile at him in the kindest smile I can muster, "You're... идеальный Mail, вы просто ... совершенной."

"I don't know Russian, Miha," I freeze a little, my heart stopping at his use of my old nickname, not really believing that he just said it.

"Oh..." I trail off, trying to get my brain to start, "I said: you're perfect Mail, just perfect."

"You think so?" I know he doesn't believe me. So I guess it's my turn now; he fixed me, so now it's my turn to fix him because he needs to be fixed just as much as I needed to be fixed, and it's my job and my job alone.

"Yes." I say, nodding at him in reassurance, "Вы прекрасны."

"Cпасибо," he says with a smile, and I just have to smile back at him.

"I thought you didn't know any Russian..." I tease, he laughs and I laugh back. In the background, Andy Sixx sings words that match the moment perfectly:

_Sit down with thoughts alone now,_

_With blood these lyrics came._

_Your words, they eat right through me,_

_Death could hear my shame._

_The tears we've cried, this love has died,_

_You're by yourself with me tonight._

_It's what we hide with every lie,_

_And stitch these wounds with me tonight..._

**So, finally finished! I would have posted last night (UK time here) but editing took a little longer than I thought, and I really just wanted to add the last bit so I did. Sorry this chapters filled with quite a lot of Black Veil Brides lyrics, but personally I think it just adds a little more to it. At first, it didn't have any lyrics in it, but after I put them in, it just flowed better. Oh, the orgasm to Andy Sixx's voice IS NOT FROM EXPERIANCE. Just wanted to add a little weird moment from Matty's past just because I was bored...**

**Like? Dislike?**

**PLEASE JUST REVIEW! Reviews make me feel happy, make me feel good inside...**


	7. Chapter 6

**Next few chapters are going to be Matty centred, because Mello's a little fixed, but Matt's still all screwed up, so yeah. Okay, it's short but it's because it's Matt's thoughts and little rants about some things, just so we can get into his head. So they get their own chapter. Also, they just came to me so I wrote them and decided '**_**hey, let's make this a chapter all by its self and post it for my wonderful readers.**_**' That was my thought process... in school... I should really pay attention...**

**DISCLAIMER- Sorry, computer says no...**

**Chapter 6- Broken **

**Matt POV (English)**

I stare at myself in the mirror, my green eye shining at me, my white one mocking me with its imperfection. Teasing me, laughing at me because it's all its fault and it knows it. It _knows _my life was messed up, screwed up and fucked up just because it's here and it's a part of me. The thing is, I can understand where my mum came from, why she hated me so much; I'm simply wrong, simply just _not_. That's it, I'm not what she wanted, and I'm not what anyone would want me. No one would want me, no one would ever have the time to even try and drag me out of this dark hole I've dug and filled with tears. Ha, that was some beautiful metaphoric shit just there. That's the shit _books _are made of. Not that anyone would want to read a book about how screwed up my life is.

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, and when I open them, my white eye still stares at me. I had been wishing that is was all just a terrible dream, and that I was going to wake up in a second and leave this fucked up world. No hope, it's real. Fuck it. Who cares anymore? Really, what's the actual point in _caring _because if you care, you're just going to get hurt and left alone again. That's just how life is; such is the existence of men. You love, love, love even more and then get hurt and your heart breaks in half and you somehow have to fix it again and again and again. That's why I gave up, because there's no point in trying to fix something that's already broken beyond repair. I'm one of those old cars- the engine isn't working, exhaust has blocked, rusting, lost the wheels- that people leave on their driveways and wait for it to die, or sell it for like, £50.

I turn away, not wanting to see myself anymore, don't want to see the fucked up piece of shit I've become. I pull out a cigarette out of the packet and somehow manage a smile, remembering some happy memory that I can't remember ever having. I have no idea what I just thought of, because in the second it took to remember, I forgot it all over again. I don't even think it was a real memory, probably some lie that my mind came up with, not real and not mine. I light the fag, not bothering to open a window because it's not like anyone other than Mello's going to come in here. If someone _does _come in here, I'm basically screwed. Yeah, I'm basically screwed no matter what. There's always that chance. The chance that my fragile bones will give in and snap under my weight and crush my lungs and let me drown in my own blood. That sounds like such a wonderful way to die, not. It sounds just pure awful. And painful. Yeah, the doctors said it would probably be super painful, I just love how they filtered things for a 10 year old. They told me everything, every chance of me dying, every chance of me being paralysed if my bones brake too often, every chance of me not even being able to live past thirty.

I wonder who would care if I died tomorrow. Who would care if I disappeared off the face of the earth and was buried six feet under? L? I'm only his successor, he probably wouldn't even care. Rodger? I wouldn't be here to fight everyone or fuck his things up. Near? He hates me, that's all. Linda? It's not like we're family, or if we're even that close. Yeah, no one would ever care, my mum would be happy if I died right now and I have no idea who my Dad actually is. From what I've learnt of them, I don't really want to. Mum always said he had left the moment he heard she was pregnant, that he wasn't worth the shit on her shoe, that he was a bastard for leaving her with a child to care for. Yeah, "care"... NEWS FLASH! The definition of 'care' has changed to: lock them up in a wardrobe and let them starve to death. NEWS FLASH! Because that makes so much sense...

I breathe in, ingesting the gasses that will probably kill me, but I couldn't care less. Sometimes, I don't even see the point in going on, the point in living seems so nonexistent. Though, I wouldn't say I'm suicidal, just that sometimes life seems so meaningless, so pointless and so messed up that I couldn't care if I died or not. Oh Zelda, I sound like one of those emo kids you see crying in a corner and writing in their diary about how bad their life is and how they want to die. I really don't want to be like that, though when was the last time you saw and emo in orange goggles. I think they'd choose black or something like that, something dark to represent 'their dark, night black hearts'. I don't think this is accurate, but who cares? Who the fuck cares about anything anymore?

Why should I care? Why _should _ I care about what happens to myself? Yeah, answer that for me brain... No? Okay, I guess that's my answer: there isn't. There isn't any reason to care anymore, none at all. What do I do with my life? Play games, smoke, sleep in class, stay awake all night playing games and maybe hack into some stuff just because it's something to do. That's kind of my whole problem; I have no life goals, I don't want to have kids, I don't want to climb to the top of the career ladder, I don't want to become an actor, I don't want to own a fancy house, I don't want some expensive-as-hell car. I don't want to do _anything! _If I never want to do anything, then what's the point in living just for the sake of living? Seriously, if someone doesn't answer these questions soon, I might just go and raid the medicine cupboard and eat it all.

Once (when Rodger finally realised how messed up I was) he, Watari and L found me a therapist/ counsellor/ random old man with that weird moustache. It didn't do anything. I sat there for an hour a week, didn't say a word, played my games and refused to move or make any reaction to anything he said. Eventually, Rodger stopped sending me, though Watari was a little peeved off. Rodger told him that he didn't see any point in sending me if I wasn't going to talk or do anything for an hour. Watari asked me why I wouldn't talk to Mr Therapist (no idea what his name is) and I told him that I didn't want to because he had a weird moustache. No one made me go anymore, though Rodger continued giving me strange looks that mean he's worried about someone or something. He _still _gives me those looks, like he thinks I'm going to become some alcoholic seventeen year old on drugs and wasting my life on becoming a hooker or something. I would be concerned if he thinks like that, at most, I'll join some mafia group and become their hacker. That kind of sounds like fun. Though I _might _end up dead in some ditch after being shot in the head by my boss. Thad kind of doesn't sound like fun.

I stalk out of the bathroom, fag in my mouth, eyes goggled and my Gameboy blearing out the Pokémon theme song. I don't even care about saving, I simply flick the switch and watch the pixels die slowly. I wonder if that hurts. I wonder if that hurts, having what makes you just turned off and die slowly. That sounds like something BB would test on one of his victims, I really need to stop thinking like some crazy ass psychopath. People might think living in his room has turned me insane, which would kind of be a little awesome, and a little messed up. I hope this room doesn't make people crazy... Okay, I'm crazy for even thinking like that. Guess the answer's yes to that little mystery. I feel like I should be on Scooby-Doo, seen as I just solved the stupidest mystery ever known to men. I mean, _seriously, _who comes up with those plots. That person has to be insane. Wouldn't it be a little funny if BB was the writer of Scooby-Doo? No? Okay. Just a thought...

I plonk myself down on my bed and lie down, I haven't turned on the lights. It's a Wednesday, and I should be in lessons but I couldn't face anyone so I told Mello I felt ill and that I'll probably be better soon, just feeling a little groggy and yuck. I'm not sure if he believed me, because he gave me one of Rodger's Looks (capitals necessary), nodded and left shaking his head. No, he didn't believe me in the slightest. But he let it drop, thank Zelda.

Mello. Mello, that's my problem. Mello understands, he knows what I've been through, knows how much it plays with your head and how it makes you a little twisted. Before, I hadn't had to worry about someone missing me, because I think Mello would miss me. Well, I am his boyfriend. After Linda found out about us, she went and told everyone in the whole damn place, which hasn't changed much. Except, the girls are always wanting us to kiss, or for us to do something sweet because 'we're just so CUTE!' Stupid girls, no wonder I hate them. Well, Mello I think, would care if I left or ate all the pills because he was the first one to bother trying to fix me. Mello's being trying to fix me. Sometimes I just want to tell him that there isn't any point because I'm beyond help so just stop trying and give up just like I have.

Though, Mello would never let me. He told me that if he can be fixed, then so can I. I really don't believe him, because I'm just that little bit too far a long for saving. Too far gone and too deeply stuck. It's like quick-sand, the more you try and get out, the harder and further it pulls you down and eventually you just get too tired and you let yourself get sucked down and let yourself die. Though, when I think about it, Mello has done _something. _He kind of fixed on part of me, faded one scar and got rid of one of the symptoms of my "illness". He stopped my nightmares. At first, when I had a nightmare, he climbed into my bed and stayed there until I calmed down enough to sleep. Now, he climbs in as we go to bed, not even bothering to wait for me to have a nightmare. It's his presence that stops my nightmares really, knowing that someone is actually there, knowing that I'm not alone.

And that just makes everything so much harder! That, no matter what, someone will care if I just give up. So, now I _have _to try, I _have _to keep going no matter how much in hurts and how much it pains me. I guess that makes me twisted. That when I actually have someone, I only see it as a something that makes my life harder to deal with, harder to face. Maybe my time in the wardrobe did turn me mad, maybe it did make me insane. Maybe I'm so far gone that no one will be able to clear my scars and heal my wounds. Maybe I'm too far gone for even Mello to save, maybe I'm simply _gone_. I told Mello that I was Mail, but maybe Mail died in the darkness and the pain and all that was left was an empty shell that is now filled with Matt. Maybe I don't even exist anymore, because all I am is a lie and a creation, created only for one purpose. Maybe I should just give up, maybe there isn't any point in waking up in the morning.

Maybe, I should trust Mello to drag me back out of the darkness.

Maybe I should trust myself to let someone in, to let someone help. Because I need help, and Mello seems to be the only one willing to give it.

Maybe...

**Wrote this at school, edited it at home. This story has kind of become my baby. Yeah, well that was strange. Please review, reviews are good. Super duper epically good. Once again, sorry it's short but as I explained, it's because Matt's thoughts are special and get their own chapter. Hope I didn't make you all too sad, because I think I need to eat some chocolate now I've upset myself...**


	8. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the late update, but life is being a right bitch and it's kicking me up the arse right now so yeah. Bit of a filler chapter, but please bear with me, have to do a few more of these types of chapters before BAMM! DRAMA! Not telling you what, just read and please don't be angry because of the late update.**

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own Death Note, though I really do want to own Death Note. Then L wouldn't be dead, or Matt, or Mello and Light would be some lovely teenager working for the NPA and dating the super detective L.**

**Chapter Seven- Fixing**

**Mello POV (English)**

Fixing Matt. So far, it's not going well. To be honest, it's going crap. Matt just refuses to try, still spends his time smoking or playing games or brooding. He does that a lot, brooding. I've tried and I'm trying and I'm going to go on trying, but it's just so hard. I watch him going about his daily business with the pitying eyes the other students give him, and I hate that I'm pitying Matt, because I don't want to be pitying him, I want to be _saving _him! And that's proving to be a lot harder than I thought it would be.

**Things I Need to Do to Save Mail Jeevas**

Stop him smoking, get Nicotine patches or something (hard, really hard)

Get him to go into a dark room (harder still)

Stop him from playing so many games instead of interacting with people (once again, super hard)

Get him off the Cancer-Sticks again, because he's not going to quit very easily

Get him to make physical contact with someone other than me or Linda (hard again)

Get him to stop fighting people (like I can really talk...)

Get him into a small room (what am I getting myself into?)

Stop his nightmares, (probably going to be one of the hardest)

Stop him smoking AGAIN

Get him to open the wardrobe (his clothes are everywhere because he won't open the thing)

Get him _in _the wardrobe (harder, might be the hardest)

Talk to him, kind of like a therapist or something (not going to be as hard as the others... probably...)

I told Rodger my plan, because I think he needs to know, because he runs the place and needs to know what's going on. Rodger tells me I really need to find another person to help me, because saving Matt will be almost damn impossible. He also tells me not to bother with number 12 because they sent him to a therapist once and it didn't do anything as he refused to talk. He also tells me that Matt has been deemed beyond help. I tell Rodger to "fuck the fuck off because Matt's my boyfriend and I know him better than some stupid therapist and you thought _I _was beyond help and now I have a boyfriend and am openly gay". Rodger looks a little offended after that, mainly because I'm right, but I don't care and stalk off back to our room.

I really don't want to hear that, I_ can't _hear that. I refuse to believe that my Matty is beyond help. I still want to believe that I can drag him out of depression and I'm not going to lie, because he's depressed and there is no way you can sugar coat it. I think he's even further that I was, and that I'm going to need to give him some tough love if he's going to get out of it. That's what saved me, tough love. Anastasia telling me to 'man up' and face my fears and to stop feeling sorry for myself because that's not going to help anyone. I didn't like it at the time, but I know it was what I needed to hear, so I'm hoping that it's the same for everyone. I read some psychology books, it isn't. I'm doomed. That was my only 'let's get him out quick' plan and I guess I'll have to stick with the long going-to-take-me-a-year plan. I don't mind; I'm going to save him, and I don't care how long it takes.

I walk into our room to find Matt with a cigarette in his mouth, sitting on his gaming chair playing which is something he knows so well. He looks so lost. So lost in the place that is normally his second home. His PS 3 controller is in his hand and his fingers have been left hovering above the buttons, sometimes they move slightly down, as if he's still playing but in his mind. His headphones were placed on his head, and I could the cries of _"What the fuck are you going?" "What the hell do we do?" "Seriously, you even there, Red, what do we do?" _He's obviously playing live, but he's done _something_, just what is that? I stare at his screen, Halo 4 is playing on the TV and some other characters are walking around in circles in front of him. His mouth opens and shuts like a goldfish, his goggles are off and I can see the panic in his good eye. He looks so broken right now, even more than he has before. He doesn't even notice that I'm staring right at him, and that's something new.

"Matt?" I ask, and he still doesn't answer. I click my fingers in front of him, wave, tap his shoulders and I even hit his face, he still doesn't make any recognition of me, "Mail, you in there?"

I wait for a while, pause, and listen to the other players yell at Matt through his headphones. I take them off Matt's head, he still doesn't notice. This is seriously starting to get me worried, I mean _seriously _worried right now. I put his headphones to my ear and listen to, what seems like four other men, rant and scream profanities at who they think is Matty. They shouldn't be saying stuff like that to _my _Matty, and if I ever see them in real life then they're going to be missing a penis, and a testicle. And a head.

"I'm sorry," I say into the microphone, trying to appear a little bit respectful, but all that comes out is anger, "My boyfriend seems to be in a comatose state and I've hit him in the face and he wont even recognise that I'm here. What the shit did you do?"

"_We didn't do anything," _one voice tells me, "_He just stopped moving and wouldn't answer us, and we're gonna lose the game."_

"I don't care about the game, just tell me why is my boyfriend nonresponsive?"

"_Look," _another voice tells me, more commanding than the first, _"We've got no idea what happen', we were playin' an' he stopped an' he wouldn't talk. That's all we know. Why you swearin' at us anyway? I know you're Red's girlfrien', but it ain't our fault."_

"One, thanks for being so helpful. Two, use proper English and three: I'm not Red's girlfriend, I'm his boyfriend and he's my boyfriend. We're gay, simple as."

"_No need to get all pissy at us," _A different voice says and he sounds younger than the others, _"And we're not homophobic, so just calm your tits. Anyway, hope Red's okay. Good player, he's a good player."_

"Thank you," with that I turn off the game and take Matt's controller from him.

I'm seriously getting worried now, Matt has never done this before and it's freaking me the fuck out. Someone doesn't just go blank and nonresponsive for no reason, either something really bad happened, or... Well, I can't think of any other reason to explain why this happened. I have no idea what happened, it's just worrying me so much that it's making my heart explode. Matt just sits there for what seems like an age, frozen like a statue and barely breathing. I turn off the game, put Matt's goggles back on and simply wait for him. I call his name, wave my hand in front of his face and try and try to get Matt to talk to me.

"Mello...?" Matt's voice slowly says, like it hurts to form any sound, "What happened?"

"That's what _I'd _like to know," I huff and he stares at me, "the other players told me you stopped playing, stopped talking and I found you here and you wouldn't even acknowledge that I was here even when I slapped you around the head."

"W...what?" Matt shakes his head in uncertainty, he obviously doesn't know what's going on, "What did I do?"

"Matt, what the actual fuck is going on?" I ask, tapping my foot to the beat of my heart, "Seriously, what's wrong?"

"I don't know..." Matt shakes his head, trying to figure it all out.

"Matt?" I kneel down and take Matt's hands, I smile at him, and he smiles a small, bittersweet smile that breaks my heart.

"Yes?" He looks at me, sadness in his green eye, his white one simply reflecting nothing.

"You know I'm here for you, right Matty?"

I just need to know that he knows; I need to know that he knows that he has someone here, someone to make him better. It's just somehow the most important thing in the world right now, and it makes me so sad. He looks at me, stares at me and glares at me with those sad little eyes that I can't help but love. He just blinks at me for a moment, barely breathing and then suddenly, out of nowhere; he starts crying. He throws himself at me, wrapping his skinny arms around me waist in terror and just pure, uncensored sadness.

"Mello, I'm so scared," He sobs into my shoulder and by now I'm already crying with him. His body shakes as he sobs, racked tears soaking my shirt but I don't even care.

"I know Matt, I know," I whisper, trying to hide the fact that I'm crying as well because I don't want him to know that I'm crying, "It's going to be okay, I'm going to fix you."

"You're going to fix me?" Matt pulls away, eyes wet and red from crying, "How?"

"I have a plan," I tell him, and he laughs without any humour in his voice.

"I'm too far gone Mell," He tells me, and I want to slap him in the face.

"No one's too far gone Matty, and you know why?" He shakes his head, "Because they'll always have someone to pull them back out of it. I'm not going to be able to help you on my own, so I'm going to need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes," I tell him, and he simply looks at me like I've gone made, "Mail Jeevas, I'm going to need your help."

"Mail Jeevas is dead."

Okay, now that's weird...

"What'd you mean?" I ask slowly, almost too scared to know the real answer

"Mail Jeevas is dead, because he died in The Wardrobe. When mum locked Mail in there, he died so he doesn't exist, so..."

"So Mail Jeevas doesn't exist." Matt nods at me, almost like he's ashamed to admit it. I'm so worried for him right now, that isn't something you say, not ever, "Matt, that's insane."

"No, but Matt doesn't exist either."

"Why doesn't Matt exist?" I ask, I need him to talk about this. It's one of the few ways to help people. Trust me.

"Because Matt's just a lie, a lie created to fill the empty shell that was once Mail," Matt... Mail? Whatever he wants to be now tells me.

"Okay," I mutter, trying to get my thoughts in gear, "Matty, you need help and I'm going to help you."

"Really?" Matt asks, looking at me incredulously, "You're going to help?"

"Yes, Matty," I tell him, "I'm going to help you."

The next two weeks are hectic, full of crying and screaming and nightmares. I think I've learnt more about Matt in the last two weeks than I have in the last three months. I've learnt that Matt sometimes has suicidal thoughts (though he won't call them that); I've learnt that Matt sees a black panther which he says is what his sadness turns into; I've learnt that Matt hates himself so much that he thinks no one will ever love him. I've also learnt that Matt has so many problems, that he can't contain them and he cries and cries and cries every night, without even me knowing. He told me that he had smoked since he was seven, because his mum shoved them in his mouth and lit them until he was addicted. I bought some nicotine patches and those nicotine inhalers so they can help. So far, he managed to go two days without one but then I found him smoking out of the window the next day. I think I'm going to burn those cigarettes to ashes in front of him, just so that he won't ever be tempted to smoke.

Rodger keeps telling me to give up, because Matt's just too far along to be saved. I still keep telling him to fuck off and that he's such a fucking idiot. He still keeps telling me off for swearing and telling me that Matt really won't be saveable. I really don't care what Rodger thinks, I promised Matt that I would save him so I'm going to save him no matter how hard it is. I keep hearing that Matt isn't saveable and that I should give up, but I'm not going to give up on Matty because I love him and he's worth saving. I keep telling him that, but Matt won't believe me and he won't trust me to save him, even though it's going to be the hardest thing I have possible ever done.

Sometimes, Matt looks even the slightest bit happy but it only lasts for a second or two and then he goes back to the depressed Matty that I want to destroy. I want to get rid of that version of Matt, I want the happy, carefree Matt who makes jokes and doesn't take too many things seriously. That's the Matt I want, because that Matt is the one who will actually be able to like himself, the Matt who won't feel that life would be better off without him. Because, my life is better with him here, and without him, things wouldn't be as good as they are now. And I love him, so I'm going to save him. No matter what people say.

**Matt POV (English)**

Mello's trying to save me, though I'm not sure how he's going to do it. He keeps telling me that I'm going to be okay, and that I'm not going to be left alone again. I really don't believe him; everyone leaves me. Not like he'd be any different. But, he's different in every single way. He's different.

He's different.

I have to remember that, I have to remember that Miheal Keehl is different to everyone else that ever left me or hurt me or broke my heart into a million tiny pieces. That's the one thing I really have to remember, that Mello will always be here and that he isn't going to leave me and that he isn't going to hurt me. That's the only thing he's really promised me, that he's never going to leave me because he has to fix me. I like it really, it's nice to know that he hasn't promised me the world, or that we're not going to die, that I'm going to live forever. Instead, he simply promised me that he's going to fix me. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

Mello bought me a journal, so I could write everything I feel down. He forces me to write in it every day, but he never tries to read it himself, that's also nice. Sometimes, I re-read days, and sometimes they sound just like a normal, teenage boy's diary, but a lot of the time it sounds pathetic and miserable and I sound just so defeated. It shocks me as well, just how bad I look in writing, and how these messed up thoughts come out of brain. I didn't think my brain would shock me anymore, but apparently, I'm not that far gone. Which Mello says is a very good sign.

There are good days, and there are a lot of bad days. On the bad days, I can't see a point in living because nothing is good and nothing will ever be worth living for. Mello's there to help me through those days, and he's actually very good at pulling me out of those days, he's even made me laugh when I think I'll never be able to fucking smile again. He tells me stories about The Twins from Hell, about Avel and Anastasia. He told me their names, saying that he trusts me and that I'm part of his family. I cried when he said that. He made the panther disappear once, which is something I've never been able to do.

On the good days, it's so easy to laugh and smile. So easy to be myself. I haven't smoked in almost five days, which, for me, is a massive achievement. Maybe Mello's plan is working. Mello can make me laugh, he can make me sing, and we play games together even though he moans like a bitch because he can't beat me. Maybe he actually is fixing me because I feel the slightest bit better which is pretty good. Mello says it's amazingly good. I think he's exaggerating some things just so I can feel better, which is nice. He's being nice to me, which is something that not many people bother even try to do.

...

"Matty!" Mello's voice calls from behind the bathroom door, that boy takes too long on his hair, "Get some clean clothes on, we're gonna go see my family!"

"What?" I call back as Mell walks out of the bathroom, zipping up his fly. Ew, "I thought I wasn't allowed..."

"Rodger said yes, mostly because I begged him for three hours..." I can't help myself, I smile and because of that, Mello smiles back at me, "Anyway, clothes. Now. Anastasia hates it when I'm late, and don't worry, they know you're coming."

"I'm really going to meet them?" I ask, pulling on my white jacket, Mello nods with a laughing smile on his face, "What will they think of me?"

"They'll love you!" Mello wraps his arms around my waist, and I try to ignore the fact that he hasn't got a shirt on, "Trust me, I've already told them a lot about you, they know quite a bit."

"What'd you tell them?" I chuckle as he pulls on his black tank top and his leather jacket. The wrist area bulges out because of those bands of his, and the secret they hide.

"Not anything bad," He smirks, "Why don't you just hurry up and you can meet them. Come on, how long does it take to put on some shoes?"

"Just another two hours," I tell him sarcastically, "Nah, it's okay, I'm ready."

"Come on then, Avel's going to kill me if we're late..." Mello complains under his breath.

We leave Wammy's and we get the bus. It's raining, has been for three days, and Mello pulls up his hood. We sit on one chair because it's the only one left, gaining us a few death stares but Mello just glares at them back, Mello's death stares aren't ones you can really contend with, no matter how hard you try. It takes us half an hour to get to the stop and then another ten minutes walk to get to the house. The walk is quiet, our hands intertwine automatically after two seconds and we walk slowly. The rain falls to a slow drizzle, and we have to stop one time to I can de-smudge my goggles. Rain isn't good for them, they get all wet and then I rub them and then they just go all smudgy and I can't see through them at all.

The neighbourhood is nice but simple, the house is small but for four people it's okay. The outside walls are white, a red door with a brass door-knob swings open to reveal what looks like an eighteen year old girl. She has brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin; she looks so much like a stereotypical Russian girl. She doesn't really look much like Mello, but then she kind of does. I think it's her face, she has Mello's kind face and she looks at Mello with these trusting, loving, deep eyes. She embraces Mello quickly, wrapping her arms around him. She's skinny, but not as skinny as Mello.

"Matt," Mello says as I walk up to them, "This is Anastasia, my sister."

"Hey," I greet her and she smiles at me. They both have the same smile, "I'm Matt."

"Anastasia," She tells me as we walk in the door, she has a strong accent but she seems confident enough with English, "So, you're Mello's boyfriend?"

"Yeah," I laugh awkwardly, not accepting this conversation so soon.

"How much do you know?" She asks, I freeze. Okay, this girl is pretty cleaver, "How much do you know about Mello?"

"Everything." I tell her, she stares at me a little, stares at Mello, stares at me and then back at Mello again. Then she starts laughing, which is a little weird. Anastasia smiles this happy, relieved, oh-thank-god smile. It's a kind smile, just like Mello's.

"Good," She tells Mells, "That's good."

She leads us through the house, Mello takes my hand so I can stop bumping into the walls, which is something I'm doing a lot. The house is clean, a few toys lie on the floor and a bit of dust is on some of the stuff, but overall it's quite nice. The walls are either white or a pale gold, everything's simple but it's just a lovely house. I don't know how, but I can somehow _feel _that this place is a good home. We go into the lounge, and we're met by three young boys. Two, the twins, look almost exactly the same; but one has short hair and the other has it longer. Black hair and green eyes, they look even less like Mello than Anastasia does. The other boy, obviously the youngest, somehow has blue eyes and black hair. Well, that's _really _weird. Everything about the Keehl family is a little weird.

"Miha!" one of the twins jump onto Mello's head, he starts speaking English, I didn't know they could speak it yet, "We missed you!"

"Missed you too Oleg," Mello laughs, putting him down on the floor again, "Everyone, this is Matt," he gestures at me, "my boyfriend."

"Hello!" the younger boys pulls me down onto the brown sofa, "I'm Avel."

"Hey..." I try to not laugh, but it's hard and a noise that sounds a little like a dying horse comes out of me, "Nice to meet you."

"Hi, I'm Yurik," the twin with the longer hair tells me, his eyes are a little bit mistrusting. I don't blame him, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen, you?" This has to be one of the most awkward conversations I've ever had.

"Ten," Yurik looks at me with those mistrusting eyes and then out of nowhere, they soften and laugh, "I like you."

"Well, that's good," Mello sits down beside me and smiles at me, "Because he's going to be around for a long time."

"That's really sweet Miha," Anastasia shakes his shoulders lovingly, "You thinking of marriage?"

Me and Mello choke on our own spit. That really took me by surprise, we've only known each other for three months, and we've only been going out with each other for a few weeks. Mello's siblings laugh at us as we struggle for breath. We stay there all day, and somehow I find it hard to feel down around Mello's siblings. They say the funniest things, the twins are lovely, Anastasia's so kind and Avel just has to be the cutest eight year old I have ever met. Wait. That's why Mello brought me here, because he knew I would _never _be able to be sad here. He knew I would never be able to brood or feel sorry for myself with his siblings around. And somehow, it actually really worked. For five hours, I haven't thought about cigarettes or games or The Wardrobe at all.

Mello, you crafty little bastard... But hey, I love you.

**So, that was pretty bad. God, I hate that chapter, so... yucky. I just love how depressed my Matty is, I feel kinda evil now. Like, dislike? Review please, I would really like some reviews on this chapter. Felt a little forced and unnatural to be honest. Sorry again for the late update, life's an awkward little bastard, isn't it?**

**Review. Please?**


	9. Chapter 8

**Oh my God, I'm so sorry for the late update! Please, don't hate me. I've had some stuff going on, long story short, counsellors are involved and everything's a little complicated. Anyway... need y'alls opinion on this... ****1 YEAR TIME SKIP****! I think I need Mel and Matty to be more mature, and you have no fucking idea how many filler chapters are going to be needed to fill that time, and I don't want to waste you lovely people's valuable time. Anyway, please PM or review me on your thoughts, I'd like to know if you lovely people hate the idea or shit like that. **

**DISCLAIMER- Sorry, but I don't own Death Note, in case any of you are really interested. Anyway, if you haven't realised that by now, then you're on the wrong website...**

**Chapter 8- Scared**

**Matt's POV (English)**

"Mello, you need to change the gear!" I scream at the blonde in the driver's seat. Rodger thought it would be good if I taught Mello to drive, but he's a demon in the wheel, "You're gonna burn the engine up!"

"How the fuck do I change gear?!" Mello yells as he frantically searches for a way to change it. Learner drivers...

"Use the fucking gear stick!" I inform him, though it could be a little quieter

"Where's the gear stick?" He asks, panic in his eyes. Rodger thought it would be a good idea to get Mello behind the wheel? Idiot

"That stick with the fucking numbers on it! Change it to four, unless you want to crash!"

"I'm changing it!" Mello yelled at me, obviously panicking out of his mind, "Why the shit are we even doing this?"

"Because Rodger thinks you can handle a 1970 SS Chevy Camaro. Rodger's an idiot," I tell Mello, who half laughs, half cries, "I don't think you could handle a Bumper-car..."

"That's really mean Matty..." Mello chuckles, slowing the car down to a stop, one of the only things he's managed to learn in the past hour, "I don't think I'm cut out for driving a car..."

"What _can _you drive without crashing it into a wall?" I ask, laughing as I pull on the hand brake because he's an idiot and forgot to put it on.

"We had a motorbike at home, Maks taught me how to ride when I was little but after I came out, Anastasia got me lessons after school and told Father it was extra study periods or detentions," Mello explains, "I haven't had a test or have a licence or anything."

"What would you say if I actually had a bike?" I ask, smirking as his mouth hangs open in a little _o _shape.

"You have a fucking motorbike?!" He yells as we switch seats so I can drive us back to my garage without crashing into Wammy's foyer, Rodger might have to explain to L _why _two more of his successors are dead, "Are you being serious?"

"Why would I lie about something like that?" I ask, laughing as his eyes light up like a child in a sweetshop, "Yeah, I've got a bike, a Harley-Davison Night Train."

"Holy shit, really?!" Mello screams like a two year old, though I doubt that many two year olds swear as much as Mello does, "Seriously, you have a Harley?"

"You wanna see?" Mello nods as I drive us into the garage, carefully parking because I really don't want to scratch the paintwork. I slam the door shut as I climb out and Mello follows me eagerly to the darkest corner of my garage.

The bike is under a white sheet, hidden because I've voiced my hatred of motorbikes many a time and so that no one would see it Especially Mello. I've been working on it for a while, ever since Mello came to Wammy's six months ago, I was planning to give it to Mello at Christmas, but I finished it quicker than I thought I would. His birthday was a few days before he came here, so I guess I could call it a late birthday present. A _really _late birthday present. I pull back the sheet, revealing the black Harley. Mello gasps at the engravings on the body, the gold coloured exhaust, the rosaries soldered to the handles and '_Mello' _carved into the tail a gothic alphabet called _Diabolique_, made by some French lady in 1834.

I wanted to make it nice for him, so I tried the hardest I've ever tried on a restoration job. It took me forever to get it right, I kept changing things, adding things, removing scratches and just making it absolutely perfect. I even changed the suspension so it's just right for him, changed the shape of the seat and even custom made the handles to they fit his hands perfectly. That was hard, especially after I added the rosaries, which just added that little bit more of _him_. Anastasia told me Mello was religious, so I wanted to incorporate that into the bike. Though I have no idea how Mello still believes in a merciful, all powerful, kind god after all the things he's been through. Well, A told me once that religion is either the rock that keeps someone sane, the thing that brings them to their knees or the death of them. He then went on to say that for some people, their belief in God is their death because they'll do anything to protect their beliefs.

If there was a God, and I don't believe that there is, I wouldn't have had such an awful mother, and Mr Keehl would love his son no matter what or who he is.

"Matt..." Mello trails off, hands to his mouth, eyes wide open in surprise.

"Happy late birthday Miheal," I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in the nape of his neck, "Hope you like it."

"Matt, how much did you spend on this?" Mello shakes his head in what I think is disbelief, "This must have cost you a fortune..."

"I actually didn't spend that much on it," I chuckle as Mello looks at me like I've gone insane, "I bought like, the body and the shell, and restored it Mells, I did it myself."

"You restored all of this...?" Mello smiles like his heart's been set on fire, it's the biggest smile I've ever seen in my whole life, "Thank you, it's the best birthday present ever. I love it Matty, it's wonderful."

"You're welcome Mello," I laugh at his ecstatic face, "Want to take it for a test drive? I can get Rodger to book you a Driving Test if you want,"

"Yeah!" Mello yells, "Wanna race?"

"Fuck yeah,"

I laugh as he mounts the bike and pulls on his helmet, even that's custom made. His leather clad thighs grip the body, he revs the engine and his smile stretches around his whole face. I think I made it all right, he looks amazing atop of his new bike, he strokes the engravings with his fingers lovingly and he glances at the rosaries, his mouth wide open as I think he notices that the chains are made of silver and gold and the beads are made of mahogany. Watari had those lying about in his attic, or so he said. I think he was lying about that, because he had this sly look on his face. Both of us wanted to give Mello a nice birthday present, the first one he's had in three years. I have no idea what I'm going to get him for Christmas...

I climb in the Camaro and roll to where Mello's stopped in front of the garage. I stare at him, smirking because no matter how good a driver he is, he's never going to beat my baby. The Camaro's still that same shiny, newly painted red as when I first bought. I look after my baby, she has a special little place in my heart. She's gotten my out of some messed up shit. Yeah, I call the Camaro my baby, what's the matter with that? He says the winner is the first person to do a lap around Wammy's and then back here, I smile even more. I hold three fingers out of the window, slowly counting down:

1...

2...

3...

Mello skids off, sending dust flying behind him and stamp down on the pedal, quickly catching up with him. I glance at him, he's good. Very good. He leans into the turns confidentially, but carefully; his torso arched perfectly in time with the growls of the Harley. His blonde hair flies out from under his helmet and suddenly, he swerves dangerously without checking who or what's there around the first corner, a couple of younger kids scream and run away a little, but he simply flips them off and laughs. I spin the wheel, changing the gear and quickly speeding past him with ease; I turn my head back, watching as he revs the engine harder, his previously smiling face changing to a grimace. He's struggling to keep up, which means I have this thing in the bag.

I turn on the radio, keeping a hand on the wheel but my arms are barely looking out of the windscreen. I mess around with the radio, tuning it to my favourite station. Music is the best thing to make you drive fast, and the song on right now just has to be my best driving song. I shove a cigarette in my mouth, lighting it with practiced ease and I grip the steering wheel and stare back at Mello. I know my mouth is turning into a thin line, which only happens when I'm truly trying at something. Not like I need to really try too hard. I mean, come on! A Camaro against a Harley? The Camaro's going to win any day. I laugh out of the window, hoping that Mello will see how little I'm worried about him winning. Mello doesn't stand a glimmer of a chance.

_Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time_

_And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach_

_Another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd_

_And as you step back in the line a mob jumps to their feet_

I screech the car around the second corner, changing the gear up to 4, the fastest possible. Kids look at me through the window, and I simply smirk at them.

_Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance_

_And no one even knew, it was really only you_

_And now you steal away_

_Take him out today_

_Nice work you did_

_You're gonna go far, kid_

I glance out the window, Mello's bike is sending dust clouds everywhere, and the people behind him can barely see a thing. I smirk, knowing that no matter how hard Mello tries, he's never going to win.

_With a thousand lies and a good disguise_

_Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes_

_When you walk away, nothing more to say_

_See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives_

I speed past Rodger standing at the front door of Wammy's, I salute him with two fingers as his mouth snaps open like a broken door. Rodger finds it a little strange that I can drive so well, but I find it strange that he's such an ugly bastard.

_Slowly outta line and drifting closer in your sights_

_So play it out I'm wide awake, it's a scene about me_

_There's something in your way and now someone is gonna pay_

_And if you can't get what you want, well, it's all because of me_

_Now dance, fucker, dance, man, I never had a chance_

_And no one even knew, it was really only you_

_And now you'll lead the way_

_Show the light of day_

_Nice work you did_

_You're gonna go far, kid_

Mello skids round the corner, leaning into the turn with confidence. I can practically feel the frustration radiating off him and I laugh as his revs the engine in anger.

_With a thousand lies and a good disguise_

_Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes_

_When you walk away, nothing more to say_

_See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives_

_With a thousand lies and a good disguise_

_Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes_

_When you walk away, nothing more to say_

_See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives_

I pull into the garage, Mello trailing behind me. I won, without really trying. Not that I expected anything else. Mells pulls off his helmet, his hair sweaty and flying everywhere. He has that kind of "badass mother-fucking sexy gay beast" aura around him. He stares lovingly at his bike and then back at me, the same loving expression on his face.

"God damn it Matt!" Mello yells at me, but he's smiling and I can tell he's trying to hold in the laughter, "How the fuck are you that good?"

"Because I've been bored out of my fucking mind for years, so I've had a lot of practice," I laugh at his disbelieving face, "Also, I just have fast reactions, and I've been driving for years."

"But, you're only 17, how could you be driving for years, isn't that illegal?" Mello asks incredulously

"Yeah, but I've been at Wammy's for like, four years and I found the Camaro in the garage and I just drove it. L found me a driving teacher when I was fourteen and I just learnt. L said it was a waste of time just to wait until it's legal for me to drive, which isn't something a detective says often," I laugh at just how odd L is.

"That's amazing!"

"It's not that amazing, I just drive," I know I can drive faster and better than most people, but I've never seen it as a talent or amazing as Mello says, "Just loads of practice really, I used to spend all day either down here or gaming, because I didn't really have friends."

"In other words, you were a loner..." I throw my dirty cloth that I polish everything with, I don't care about cleaning my room, but cleaning my cars is the third most important thing in my life the order being; Mello, gaming, cleaning cars.

"Yeah, you're probably right!" I laugh, somehow, no matter how sad I am, I still find it easy to laugh and smile around Mello. He just has that affect on me, one that doesn't leave room for sadness or even thinking about feeling sad. I guess he's someone I can rely on, and to be honest, I never thought I could rely on someone again.

We spend the rest of the day driving and racing and messing around in the garage. Mello doesn't mention school or studying once, and I don't even think about gaming or beating _Hitman Reborn_, which I still haven't done yet, there just isn't time for it. I teach Mello how to change the suspension- if he ever needs to- , how to clean the engine without messing it all up, we scream out songs at the top of our lungs not caring who or how many people heard us. Mello plays me some Russian bands, that I have to admit are pretty cool. I play him some other Black Veil Brides songs because he told me he liked them, I also played some Asking Alexandria, Fearless Vampire Killers, Tonight Alive and Chiodos. The amount of times Linda came in to scream at us and tell us to "quiet the fuck down" was, to be frank, insane. We didn't care.

Mello is such an easy going person, especially when we're all on our own. He doesn't seem to have a care in the world when we're all alone, you could almost forget that he had a scar on his chest where The Bastard stabbed him with a knife, and you could almost forget the scars on his wrist. It's impossible to forget his past though, I can remember his nightmares and his tears and his scars all too well. I watch as he dances around the garage, his hips swaying in time to the beat of one of the songs he had chosen. Mello turns the music up, obviously this is one of his many favourite songs. I can't understand a word, it's all in Russian, and even though I been living with Mello for like, six months, I know very simple Russian, never bothering to learn it. Mell kinda stopped me, saying how complicated the language is compared to English, how it can take years to learn. I'm too lazy to ever try that hard on something. Ever. Unless it's gaming, but that really doesn't count.

"Matt, can we go get some food?" Mello asks, I shut the bonnet of my car softly, not wanting to scratch the paint work that I've been re-doing, "I'm starving."

"Since when did you start eating tea?" I ask, which is a very sensible question seen as Mello barely eats anything, "What, looking forward to the off cheese cake?"

"No," Mello scoffs, waving an empty chocolate wrapper at me, "I started eating tea when I ran out of chocolate five hours ago!"

"How in Zelda's name are you still so frigging skinny?" I laugh, because somehow Mello hasn't ended up the size of a whale yet, "Are you magic or something? Should I be worrying about you using the killing curse on me?"

"You're an idiot Matty, this isn't Harry Potter!" He throws the chocolate wrapper at my face, I let it hit me and bounce to the floor before I even consider picking it up, "Any way, can we go get food now?"

"Kay," I chuck the wrapper in the bin on the way out and flick off the lights. I lock the door too, I really don't want some random little kid coming in here and messing with my cars, "You know what we're having?"

"Linda mentioned pasta or something..." Mello muses, "I don't really know."

"I guess it'll be a surprise," I chuckle, Mell needs to learn how loosen up a little bit, "Hopefully a nice surprise. What if it's frogs legs and snails?"

"I doubt they'll serve anything _that _out there, Matty!" Mello laughs, little does he know about the "Country Month" they put us through. A different country's traditional meal every night, the French day was fucking annoying. Though, Linda liked it, mainly because she comes from France.

"You poor, ignorant fool..." I mutter, which makes Mello laugh, for a genius he knows so little, "You know so little of Wammy's ways."

"Yeah _right..._" Mello scoffs, his blue eyes staring at me in disbelief.

We stay quiet for the rest of the walk, which is actually surprisingly long. My garage is in the furthest corner of Wammy's gardens, which together take up seven acres of land. I prefer it that way, when I'm there I can ignore everyone and simply work on my latest project. My garage is like my home-away-from-orphanage, I find it just as homely as my room full of games and SINS. Right now, I'm restoring a '78 'Lil Red Express for Wammy and L. Apparently, they'll need it on their next case in the south of America, somewhere near Alabama or something. I think that's a little stereotypical and racist... No, area-ist? Oh, I really don't care anymore. Life has more important things to worry about than whether L is being... Oh shit, and we've come full circle.

Mello's legs stride him quickly across the lawns, thin bones cracking in strain. Mello is way too thin still, he never gains any weight and somehow he manages to stay upright when the wind gets too strong. His thin frame has been leather clad since his fifth week here, when he discovered all the leather clothes locked away in the attic. He even wears leather tank tops that show off his un-abed, thin stomach that still somehow manages to be sexy The material isn't very warm, and he has to wear a black hooded jumper over it and his feet are always covered with thick, black socks and red combat boots. You can hear him from a mile away; those boots make so much noise. His feet stomp down on the pavement we're walking on with surprising ferocity and force that he doesn't look like he has. Zelda, I love him. He's just... BEAUTIFUL!

We wander into the Dining Room and I shrug off my vest. Someone's turned up the heating way too high! Do they want us to fucking _melt_? Apparently... yes. The room is already full of students, a rainbow coloured mixture of English, French, American, Italian, Irish, Scottish, Kenyan, Chinese, Japanese, Australian, Swedish, Hungarian, Spanish, Mexican, Polish and every other country you can think of. Well, there isn't anyone from Canada yet, but that's beside the point. The whole place is just so loud; the clatter of knives and forks on plates, glasses being smacked down on the tables, laughing, crying, screaming, chattering and random noises that come from the kitchen all the time. Rodger once told me that the kitchen is making food all day, except first thing in the morning because apparently, we can all be trusted in a kitchen on our own. Yeah right. Mello and I grab our plates from the kitchen and make our way to our usual table right in the corner. It's a four seat-er, normally Linda eats with us, even though she's annoying as hell, and sometimes Near comes and sits with us, that's if he decides to eat in the Dining Room with us "commoners". Unlucky for us, today is one of those days.

"Hello Matt, Mello," Near says quietly in that weird voice of his as he places his tray down on the table carefully without making the slightest bit of noise, "I hope that you are well."

"Fuck off, Near," Mello grumbles between forkfuls of Spaghetti. It's well known that Mello hates Near, mainly because Near undermines Mello at every possible moment. Near doesn't see Mello as a threat, even though Mell is second in the rankings and it infuriates Mello. He doesn't want to be seen as not worth even considering. I think it's because of what The Bastard said to my Mells.

"As always Mello, you're anger is getting in the way," Near twirls his white hair around his finger with his right hand, and he elegantly twirls the pasta around the fork with his left hand, "I wonder, what would you do if you had to stop swearing?"

"I would stab you in the face!" Mello growls loudly, Near doesn't flinch but anyone else in earshot cringes at the sound. Mello's started carrying out with his threats if you're annoying him too much. Too many people have walked away from one of Mello's fits of rage with black eyes. Almost everyone has faced his anger, well, accept me. I twirl my pasta up and silently watch the two, I really wouldn't want to mess with an angry Mello, so I stay quiet, "And then I would start screaming swear words in a church!"

"But Mello," Near points his fork at Mell, he looks a little bit like L, which is only going to make Mello even angrier, "Swearing in a church would be blasphemous, would it not? And, you being catholic, would not take the risk of going to Hell just to argue with me. Anyway, you are too good and too strongly dependent on your God to ever risk your eternal soul."

"Try me." Mello hisses, he throws his fork onto the table, and the whole Dining Room freezes and stares at him. I'm not even going to _try _and break this fight up, I've had too many broken bones in my life time as it is, "Go on, explain! Make. My. Day."

"You like to pretend that you have a dark soul, and you also like to pretend that you would be able to go through with half of your threats. In reality, you're just _pretending _to be all anger and rage... because you don't want to get hurt."

"Near, that's..." Mello starts, but Near interrupts him

"Again."

Mello freezes, his fork drops to the ground with a deafening, metallic _clang_. It's almost as if the second hand on the clock stops still, like all of time has been destroyed just by one word. Then, the clock suddenly starts again. Mello slams his fist against the table in pure fury, his glares at Near and I _swear_ that I can see the white haired boy shrink back in fear. Then, Mello throws his remaining pasta on the floor and curses in Russian under his breath and storms out of the room. I stare after him, not quite sure what's going on. I know exactly why Mello's angry, but I'm not sure whether he over reacted, or whether his reaction was valid. I stare at Near, trying to muster any anger for the boy but failing, for some reason I can't be angry at him. I can never really be angry at anyone, Mello said I was so chill I was probably dead, and I've never said a bad word about any person. Linda doesn't count, she's obviously _not _human.

"Matt?" Linda sits down next to me, her eyes are confused and concerned, "What happened, Mello just..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not quite sure what happened, he just over reacted or something," I lie through me teeth, and I can tell that Linda knows I'm lying, "It's nothing, you know Mells has a short fuse."

"He's never reacted so badly to something Near's said before," Linda shakes her head, and I can feel the exact same way she is; worried and slightly scared. Mello hates being angry, he said it reminds him too much of his father, "You know what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," I sigh, I'm just so tired of dealing with Mello's shit at the moment, I can't be there to calm him down every time he blows a socket, "He's been fine all day, he just snapped,"

"I think Mello over reacted," Near states bluntly, his finishes off his food and walks, well shuffles, off back to his bedroom, or maybe the library. I stare after him blankly, seriously, this is so confusing

"I'm going to go talk to him." I inform Linda.

I walk off into the direction of our room, ignoring everyone completely and only focusing on finding Mello. I wander around the grounds, unable to find Mello for three whole hours. It starts raining and I really don't care, I just really want to find Mello. He just snapped, without any warning and everything's just so weird. He's been fine all day, and then suddenly he snaps and turning into a whole different person. Rodger gives me strange looks out of the window, and I don't blame him because it's pouring down hard now, and I can barely see through me goggles. I find my blonde haired Russian curled up under a tree in the pelting rain, his clothes almost completely see through, his hair clinging to his face and I can't tell whether the water on his face is rain or tears. I hope it's the first, but the latter seems to most likely. Fuck, what the shit happened?

"Mello?" I crouch down next to him, soaking my jeans and grass-staining them I might add, "What happened, are you okay?"

"I..." He chokes on his words, his body shaking with inaudible sobs, "I'm not sure..."

"Miheal Keehl!" He jumps up at the sound of his real name, "You know you can't lie to me."

"I know." He chuckles, but it has no humour in it, it's even the slightest little bit scary, "It's just, I haven't had someone say something like to me in ages, I haven't even thought of my father in days and Near just..."

"Mell, I'm your boyfriend, you _have _to talk to me," I stroke his blonde, thin hair in what I hope is a loving way, "Please just tell me what's wrong."

"Matty!" He throws himself at me, his thin arms wrapping around my waist and sobs into my chest, I can feel his body shaking and I think hypothermia is setting in. Get a hold of yourself Matt, he's not getting hypothermia, he's not going to die! He's not like you; I'm ill all the time and I got hypothermia when I was little.

"What's wrong Mello?" I coo in his ear, whispering comforting nothings to try and make him feel better

"He's going to find me again, and then he'll hurt you and then... and then..." He almost throws up in fear, he makes the most gut wrenching, heart shattering, terrifying noise of fear ever. My heart literally just cracked into a million tiny little pieces, "Matty, I'm so scared..."

"I know Mello, I know,"

We sit there for what seems like hours, Mello silently crying onto my shoulder and me trying to comfort the thin, blue eyes boy in my arms. Everything's falling into place, Mello's been scared. He's been scared his whole life, well three years but that's beside the point. For those three years, he's been scared of what his father would do to him, when his father was drunk and stabbed him he was scared of how much he'd leave behind. And finally when he escaped, he's been scared and terrified that his father would find him and hurt him again. And he's been scared for _me_! No one's ever been scared for me, but all this time he's been scared that his father would hurt me. This is insane, completely insane. But here I am, in love with a boy I've known for only six months, comforting him in the rain and not caring who sees, because someone loves me and someone is worried about what'll happen to me.

And that boy is the greatest, most beautiful, kindest, most wonderful person I have ever met. And I love him. I'll love him forever, because he's _mine _and no one will ever take him away from me.

Because he's fucking mine, and no one, _NO ONE _is ever going to touch him again. Especially The Bastards, because I'm going to protect Mello and stop anyone from hurting him, even if it means I hurt everyone else.

**Like, dislike, feelings against the year time skip? Well, please review, because reviews are fanfiction gold. They mean literally everything here! I really need your feedback on the time skip thing, if too many people are against it then I won't do it. Just have to tell you something that happened in my church, it was fucking hilarious:**

**Priest: God is light. Light is God.**

**My brain: HOLY SHIT!**

**Priest: And he will come back to the world in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will never end**

**My brain: HOLY FUCK MY PRIEST IS A KIRA SUPPORTER AND I NEED TO FIND A NEW CHURCH! **

**I love my brain sometimes...**


	10. Chapter 9

**Like the third season of Code Geass, I'M BACK BITCHES! So, this chapter's from Mello's POV, mostly because I think I've been neglecting him a little... This chapter has plot development! Sorry that it's mostly just talking and stuff, but it's important talking with PLOT DEVELPOMENT! YAY! HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER! Okay, time to calm down and get on with the chapter! Enjoy!**

**The song I was listening to while writing this is Keep Holding On by Avril Lavigne, I seriously suggest listening to it! **

**DISCLAIMER- Do I really have to write this every chapter? I don't own Death Note or Finding Nemop, but I do own Jessica, Caroline, Avel, Anastasia, Oleg, Maks and Yurik so don't use them please!**

**(( One year later ))**

**Mello POV (English)**

"Mell," Matt sighs as I check outside the window, "It's been a year, seriously, he's not going to find you!"

"But, what if he _does_?" I slam the window closed, bolting it. Matt's been so good, putting up with my stupid paranoia, the constant worry that my father is going to find me and I'll have to go back there. But still, it's been a year and my father hasn't tried anything and I don't think he knows where we are, "Matt, he still could..."

"You seriously need to get over it, he's not going to find you." Matt grows at his game, I can tell he's fighting a boss or something like that. I've never learnt any of Matt's gamer talk.

"He could easily find me, he's got connections and stuff like that," I lock the door, I never take any chances. Ever.

"Yeah, because a drunk, asshole has _connections_." Matt groans, his goggles are off and I can see his concern, his fear.

"Matt, please just _understand_." I sit down next to him, and immediately stroke his lovely, shiny red hair. Not that he would ever admit that it's actually red, "Matt, _please_!"

"_Mello,_" He jumps up, flings his Gameboy onto the bed and storms to the door. Matt unlocks the door again with a click, and the last little bit of calm inside me disappears as he flings it wide open, "This place has an amazing security system, no one can get in without a number code and even if someone got in, then the alarms would go off and everyone would know! If..."

"But..." I interrupt him, and in turn am interrupted

"_If _he found you, he wouldn't be able to get into the school!" Matt yells, unbolting the window. I guess Matt's had enough, "You need to get over all you fucking _insecurity_! You're jumping at every noise, getting scared of something that isn't going to happen and it's fucking annoying!"

"Matt..." I start, but his eyes just won't let me finish, they're so intensely sad and so concerned. I think for me. It's Anastasia worrying about me all over again. Pointless and completely stupid, "Matt, I'm really sorry. I've been a little... paranoid."

"Paranoid?" Matt scoffs, "You've been fucking mental!"

"Matty, I'm so sorry," I stare into his eyes, trying to read the emotions in them and failing, "I've been stupid."

"Yeah, understatement of the year..." Matt sighs, "Sorry I snapped just then, I guess I'm just a little riled up."

"I'm sorry I've been so annoying lately," I smile at him and he smiles back, thankfully, he closes the door again giving me back the security, "Why would _you _be riled up anyway?"

"Just..." Matt glares up at the jam stain on the ceiling, almost as if he could blame everything that's gone wrong in his life on that one stain, his eyes are watering and I can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, trying to hold in the sobs that rack his body, "My mum's appealing for probation, and I have to speak at the hearing in three weeks."

"Oh Matty," I wrap my arms around his thin frame, I can't believe that the legal system is even _considering _letting that evil bitch out. Matt chokes on his tears, shaking with fear and I can feel the terror coming off him in waves. I never even thought of the possibility that Matt's mother could harm us, I always thought that it would be my father who would cause us this grief. It's not like I'm not scared by this, but I can't let Matt know that. I don't think I can take Matt like this, I don't think I could take seeing Matt holding back the tears, telling a jury and a judge what his mother did to him, "Matt, it'll be okay. I promise."

"Promise?" Matt looks up at me, his green eye shining with emotion and fear, his white eye glaring at me, reminding me of all the pain he's suffered, "Mello, will you please be there?"

"Of course I will Matt, I'm always here for you," I stroke his red hair, trying to calm him down, "I'll be there."

"Thank you Mell," He sighs contentedly and pushes himself further into my chest, nuzzling into my neck, "I love you."

"Love you too."

"Guys, get your arses down to tea," Linda suddenly materialises at the door, making us both jump out of our skin, "We're having fish pie and something."

"Bloody fuck Linda, knock or something!" Matt screams, the bright light from the hallway is already making him cringe in pain so he pulls his goggles on quickly, "Why fish pie?"

"How the hell am I meant to know why we're having fish pie?" Linda laughs, she sits on the bed next to us, I guess I could call Linda my friend, "I can't believe it's your 1 year anniversary this month."

"How do you know that?" I ask, surprised at how observant Linda actually is.

"I'm your best friend dumbass!" Linda smacks me on the arm in jest, "You two eating or what?"

"We're coming!" Matt jumps up and his stomach makes a noise like dying whale, "I'm fucking starving."

"When did you eat last?" Linda sighs, she's know for such a long time that Matt doesn't eat unless he's forced to by someone. Or he hasn't eaten in such a long time that his _body _forces him to eat, "Last week or something?"

"How'd you know?" Me and Linda follow Matt out of the dorms and into the Dining Room. Every since I came here, this room seemed to have gotten smaller and smaller each day, maybe it's because I've realised that I'm not small. We grab our food, fish pie as Linda said, and sit down at our usual table. I'm not that hungry, I've eaten too many bars of chocolate today to really want more food. Matt stuffs his face with his pie, shovelling so much in that he looks like he's a hamster or something.

"Matt, slow down!" Linda yells, Matt pauses for a second to look at her between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to speak, his eyes as the question 'why?', "You're gonna get indigestion or something! I don't want to deal with that shit all day."

"Glf uk sel ida," Matt gargles, his mouth full of potato

"English please?" Linda chuckles, wiping the piece of potato that Matt must have spat out from off her face, "I don't speak retard."

"I said," Matt swallows, "Go fuck yourself Linda. I thought that would be obvious..."

"I'm not a fucking mind reader Matt!" Linda cries, "And how in god's name am I meant to understand that?"

"I thought you were meant to be smart!" Matt cried, flying more potato on the table, "Ah, don't care anymore."

"Thought so." Linda replied smugly, "Mello, you planned anything for your anniversary yet?"

"What?" I look up from my pie, fork hanging from my mouth. I was meant to plan something? I didn't know that...

"Mello!" Linda screamed, slamming her fork down on the table with a deafening clang of metal. Her face is contorted in anger, shock and disbelief, "Are you telling me that you didn't plan _anything?_"

"I didn't know I had to!" I scream back at her, no one seems to mind our argument, it's common for me and Linda to argue and yell a lot. And everyone's used to me screaming and ranting for no reason.

"Mello!" Linda cries, flinging her arms up in shock, "You are the man of the relationship, therefore you have to plan the anniversary celebration and all the dates!"

"Wait, hold the fuck up," Matt interrupts our screaming match, "Mello's the man? Does that mean I'm the _woman_."

"Yes, yes you are Matty," Linda cackles like the evil little witch she obviously is, "I'm sorry, but you're the woman."

"Are you being serious?" Matt cries, sighing deeply, "If anything, Mello's the woman! I'm not the one who spends ten hours doing my hair every morning and painting my frigging nails! Mello looks like a girl for Zelda's sake!"

"Nope, Mello's a lot more manly than you are Matt!" Linda laughs, pointing at me with her fork, "He may have a really girly hair, no muscles and look a little bit like a girl, but you're the girl Matt!"

"Did you just say I look like a girl!?" I scream, standing up with a clatter of table and forks, the whole dining room freezes in either anticipation or fear, "DON'T YOU EVERY DARE CALL ME A GIRL YOU WHORE, YOU CALL ME THAT AGAIN AND С гребаный ключ и я буду бить тебя до смерти с ним, и вы никогда не узнаете, что случилось!"I scream at her in Russian, unable to calm myself down to go back to English. I slam down on my chair, sulking with a pout. I'm not going to deny it, I'm pouting like a little bitch.

"Anywatsit..." Linda grabs her plate and stands up with a flick of her hair, "I'm done here, so I'm leaving. You two coming?"

"We'll be done in a minute," I gesture at my half finished food, and Matt's scraps that he still hasn't eaten, "I just need a bit longer."

"Okay..." Linda sighs, and sits back down with a _thump, _"I can wait a little longer, I guess."

"You don't have to wait," Matt clangs his fork down on the plate, leaving me to finish my food, "Seriously, Mello's nearly done and I'm finished."

"Stop making assumptions Matt, I'm done," Matt glares at my plate, seeing how I still have loads of food left, "I'm not hungry, I've eaten too much chocolate today."

"Holy shit!" Matt screams, flying his arms in the air like he's having a fit or something, seriously Matt, calm your tits, "Mello's admitting that he's had too much chocolate! Finally admitted that you're going to get fat? One of these days Mello, you're going to end up the size of a whale and then I will have to hand feed you with a tube because you can't support your own body weight because you're so fat!"

"_No eating here tonight," _Linda and Matt sing in practiced unison, "_No eating here tonight. No no no eating here tonight YOU'RE ON A DIET!"_

"Matt?" I ask with a falsely sweet smile, Matt freezes in fear, "Fuck off."

"I love how romantic you two are..." Linda giggles, knowing full well that Matt and I are only romantic when we're on our own. People don't need to know what's going on behind closed doors, I guess I've never learnt that it's okay to let people know who you are. Russia beats that out of you.

"You know I don't like public displays of affection," Matt sighs, scraping his fork on the plate, trying to find more food, "Mello hates it."

"Yeah, but you two could be more open about your relationship," Linda points her fork at me and her knife at Matt, "You two are so stupid, the girls will love it if you two were more open and none of the other boys would really care."

"Yeah, but public displays of affection _really _aren't my thing," I moan, trying to kill Linda with my stare but she only laughs at my attempt of scaring her. Seriously, why won't that stare ever work on her? Most people run away screaming all the way to Australia if I use my 'Mello, he will Keehl you stare', In private Matt calls it that, but in public he simply calls it the 'Bitch, sleep with one eye ope or I'm going to kill you' stare, "And you know it."

"Don't you dare try and change my Mellsy!" Matt screams, his red hair flying upwards somehow, as if he's powering up or getting really angry. I'm expecting the rocks to start flying up any minute now, "He's mine bitch, back off!"

"Since when was I your _Mellsy_!" I yell back at him, I hate that nickname. G tried to call me that once, and I nearly beat him to death with the baseball bat. We were in PE. Wammy's seems to believe that we every week, two times a week, we need to trail out in the rain and play some random sport that Rodger picked for a while and then eventually he'll pick a new one and we'll do that for a while. We've been doing Baseball recently, and somehow they're trusting the blonde haired Russian with anger issues, me, with an object that I could kill someone with.

"Since a year ago, _Mellsy_!" Matt crows, "Seriously, why are we arguing about this?"

"Um..." I pause for a minute, trying to work out why we actually are arguing, "I'm coming up short, I have no idea."

"Can we go now?" Matt stands up and Linda and I follow after him, well, Linda follows and I run up to him and hold his hand, "Where you wanna go?"

"Can we go to the tree?" Linda asks, practically skipping with every step she takes, "Please, it's a lovely day and it'll be a shame to waste it!"

"Did we say no?" I laugh, and Linda sticks her tongue out at me and I flip her off, "Let's go then!"

"Yay!" Matt screams, racing down the corridor at full speed, "Tree!"

Our tree is a large oak in the corner of the grounds, all leaves and thick branches that are perfect for lounging across on a nice, warm day. Linda, Matt and I have spent a whole day up there, talking about nothing and yet talking about everything. Matt loves climbing it, he even slept up there once, catching a cold in the process but he really didn't care. I love that tree, it's wonderful in the summer, and beautiful to look at in the winter, not that Matt would ever let us go outside in the winter. I have to walk around the grounds with Linda when it's too cold for Matt to venture outside of our room. I still love the cold, I wait eagerly for it to snow at winter. The walk is short, and the climb is tiring but worth it. Matt slouches on a thick branch like a stripy baby sloth, his arms and legs dangling and swinging with practiced, safe experience. Linda leans against the trunk, her legs stretched across the branch and her Ipod in, music turned up loud, as she surveys the group like a cat. I straddle the thickest branch on the whole tree, I don't find it uncomfortable at all, and my bike is a lot wider than the branch.

"Matt, how is that comfortable?" I ask my baby sloth, laughing as he grunts in response, obviously he's already half asleep. Most forms of exercise exhaust him, "It's okay, you can sleep. Just don't fall off!"

"Mmfffp," Matt groans in appreciation and in a second he's snoring like a pig, "Don't eat the pillow..."

I have to hold in the laughter, when he's asleep, he has no idea what he's saying. I close my eyes, trying to find some piece of mind in this crazy world. The trail is in three weeks, and I have no idea how Matt is going to cope with it. He hasn't seen his mother since he was ten, eight years ago and that woman almost broke him completely. Seeing him up there, talking about what his mother did to him, how that woman hurt him... I don't know how I'm going to cope with it. I know how selfish that sounds, but watching Matt talk about what his mother did will break my heart, hearing how much pain he was in. How much pain he's in. Me and Matt go to a therapist together now, and Matt's on pills. Linda, Rodger, Watari and L are the only ones who know that, and I plan to keep it that way. No one needs to know that secret, no one ever will. Well, at least we're starting to heal, and at least things are starting to get better.

The next three weeks are Hell.

I barely see Matt, he's in different lessons most of the time, and when he's not in lessons he's gaming. Gaming, sleeping or in lessons, not letting himself have a moment to himself so he doesn't start thinking about everything. He doesn't eat either, losing six pounds in three weeks, it's really not good. He smokes himself to oblivion, spends his time locked up in our room, not talking to anyone unless he has to. He hacks into a few government websites, hides their files for a few hours and sends the whole country into utter chaos. L calls Matt after America threatens a state of emergency, and tells Matt to stop it, that this isn't going to help. Matt doesn't stop. L apologised to the country, somehow getting them to forgive. I still have no idea how L managed to pull it off, Matt never told me what L said at that meeting, and I don't think I want to know.

The day of the trail arrives too soon, too quickly and too painfully. Last night, Matt had a nightmare again, he woke up drenched in sweat, breathing heavily and crying. He didn't talk about it and he didn't tell me what it was about. Matt wakes up at six, unable to sleep again and starts getting ready. He combs his hair, puts on his dress trousers and pulls on his red shirt and black tie. He looks so wrong, he isn't even wearing his goggles; Matt owns some tinted glasses that he wears for occasions where he can't wear his goggles. I wear my trousers and my white shirt and I scrub off my black nail polish, I think it would be disrespectful. We sit in silence for an hour, quietly contemplating the situation, Matt's cried three times already.

"You two ready to go?" Rodger walks into our room, and I nod at him because Matt isn't even able to breathe, "We're going in a minute, you might want to get to the car."

"Okay, we'll be down in a second," I reply and Rodger disappears as quickly as he appeared, "Come on Matty, we've got to go."

"I..." Matt freezes, his eyes darting around in fear, "Mello, I don't think I can do this..."

"Sure you can," I embrace him, trying to comfort him the best I can and I can feel the shudders of fear rippling through his body, "I'll be there the whole time, okay?"

"Okay..." He stands, his legs shaking as we walk down the corridors. A few people look at us funny, shocked at Matt's and my appearance because we've never worn clothes like this before.

The drive to the courthouse is awkward and quiet, me and Matt holding hands while Rodger glances at us in the driver's mirror a couple of times. Watari and L are meeting us at the courthouse, but we won't see them until after the verdict because L needs to make sure that he isn't seen. The courthouse is massive, but not as big as Wammy's, and menacing. Inside, the only seats available are the three for us, and that's what shocks me the most. I had no idea that this case was going to be so big, but I guess I don't know as much of the English legal system as I thought I did. The whole room is a swamp of brown, black and red hair; I'm the only blonde here. I stare at the red haired people, trying to find any similarities between them and Matt, and all of them seem to have hints of my gamer in them. Or Matt has hints of them in him, it depends how you look at it really.

"Mail?" I jump out of my trance as a soft voice whispers Matt's really name next to me, "Is that really you?"

"Yeah, I came," Matt croaks, and I look at the source of the voice. She's red haired, green eyed and pale just like Matt, but her eyes are more lime than emerald and her hair is more 'poster-red' that Matt's, and she's slightly tanner, "Mello, this is my cousin Jessica."

"Hello," I shake her hand, and I finally understand. Matt mentioned that he had some family members, but they all thought it would be best for Matt for him to receive a Wammy's education, "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" She squeals, there's something I can't place in her eyes, "Aren't you cute, you got a girlfriend?"

"No, but..." I start, but she squeals again in what I think is joy

"Ohmigod!" She squeaks, "You wanna go out sometime?"

"Sorry Jess, but you're barking up the wrong tree," Matt laughs, God I've missed that laugh, "Mello here is my boyfriend."

"Oh?" She tilts her head, thinking hard, "Oh! Wow! It's really nice you found someone Mail! Though, I never thought it would be a guy, well, I guess you can never tell."

"Please rise for the Judge," Suddenly, Matt's laughing face falls as he slumps down on his chair in a mixture of fear, sorrow and anger, "Case 3984, Caroline Jeevas appealing for probation."

Matt's mother walks into the courtroom, brown hair held high, barely noticing that all the red haired people in the room are either frozen on their seat or growling at her under their breath. She doesn't look much like Matt, but still he resembles her. Her brown hair doesn't resemble Matt's red hair at all, her skin is too dark and it's almost impossible to believe that she's even related to Matt. Then, I see her eyes as she glances at her son. I feel Matt stiffen beside to me and I grab his hand, but I don't keep my eyes of those haunting emerald eyes. They have the same eyes, full of every emotion they are feeling at that moment, glimmering green that only the fairytale princes own, but have somehow escaped into reality. They're different in every single way apart from their eyes. Well, only one of Matt's eyes is green, but I've always known that the white one should be green, but isn't.

Matt's hands are shaking in mine as he watches his mother walk up to the table and sit down, his eyes palms are sweaty and his pale skin is clammy rather than the silky soft it usually is. I smile reassuringly at him, but he doesn't even notice. He's breathing hard and fast, his chest rising and falling without his usual calm, and it's freaking me out. He looks ready to pass out at any moment, to collapse on the floor in a pale, frightened lump. Rodger shakes his shoulder, trying to break him out of the frightening trance he's gone into. I glance at the clock, and it's hard to believe that I've been trying to calm Matt down for two hours, and I realise that the trail has been going on and I haven't even noticed.

"I call Mail Jeevas to the stand," The lawyer fighting to keep Matt's mother in jail calls out. This is it, the moment Matt and I have been dreading for three weeks.

"Matt, come on, you need to testify now," I mutter in the redhead's ear and slowly and painfully he makes his way to the stand, "You can do it," I mouth at his shaking form behind the stand

"Is is true that your mother used to abuse you?" The lawyer asks, his voice commanding but calm as he notices how terrified Matt is, "Be honest."

"Yes," Matt croaks out, his voice breaking in fear, "She did."

"Did used to lock you in cupboard or the basement for days on end, did she not?"

"Yes," Come on Matt, please just be okay

"The longest time she locked you up for was five weeks, was it not?" the lawyer asks Matt, his voice kind and yet still he has a tone of voice that demands answers. Matt nods, prompting the lawyer to ask, "Could you please describe that time and the events leading up to that time?"

"Yeah..." Matt pauses to think, and to gain his composure I think, "Um... She was angry because I'd had an after school detention, she said that she couldn't drop everything to pick me up and that I'd lost her seven hour's pay at work. She was screaming at me... and...saying that I was a waste of time, saying that if I was just going to waste her time then there was no...point in me. She dragged me up stairs, all the time she was screaming and then... and then she shoved me in the wardrobe. I'm not sure how but she locked it from the outside and I couldn't get out, no matter how hard I tried. It... it was really dark, and I couldn't see or anything and it was really small and I couldn't really fit, and it was really cramped... I was in there for five weeks, like you said, and it was... awful... I couldn't breathe, I was lying in my own..." Matt chokes on his words a little, gaining him a hard hiss from the jury, "dirt, and I thought I wasn't going to get out..."

Matt bursts out in sobs, his body shaking and painful, heartbreaking noises erupting from his mouth. Rodger walks up to the stand and leads him back to his seat. I grab Matt's hand and refuse to let go for even a second for the rest of the trail. Matt's lawyer calls up many witnesses; Jessica, Matt's aunt, his grandmother and other members of the red-haired family. Caroline Jeevas' lawyer says how the woman was under the influence of alcohol, that she had no idea what she was doing and that she couldn't be held responsible for her actions. Mrs Jeevas said how she couldn't remember doing those horrible things to her son, that she never meant to hurt him, that she had no idea what she was doing and that she couldn't remember anything from before going to prison. But everyone could tell that she was lying, it was in her eyes, those achingly similar eyes.

At the break for the jury to decide the verdict, I spend my time meeting Matt's family, and calming him down first of course, and they're all lovely people. His grandmother cries, saying she couldn't believe that her daughter would do something so evil; Jessica swears Mrs Jeevas' name, sending curses on her head. They're all red haired, saying they have no idea where Caroline got her brown hair, all pale skin and freckles. Matt laughs, but it sounds hoarse and forced, but it's so nice to hear his laugh, even if it is faked. Jessica is a nice person, she's easy to get along with once she got over the fact that she asked me out, she makes you laugh a lot, she has Matt's easy-go-lucky attitude, with a extra bit of crazy and energy. We all get on well, Matt's family seem to like me, and I hope it stays that way...

I stare at the Jury's pockets, they're full and stretching under the strain of a lot of rectangular shaped things. No way! I scramble into the courtroom the moment we're allowed in and Matt doesn't seem to understand why I'm in such a panic. Bribery, I just have to hope it's from our side. I almost scream at the Judge to get the hell on with it, he's killing me!

"We, the Jury, have decided that Caroline Jeevas' prison sentence is over," Matt sways a little, his breath stopping like broken CD player.

"And will have full custody of her son, Mail Jeevas."

And Matt's collapsed on the floor; a pale, frightened lump.

**DUM DUMM DUMMMMMM! OMG DRAMA! OK, I know this wouldn't really happen, and the jury would NOT accept bribery, but it's my story so I can do whatever the hell I want to do with the English court system. How will Mello and Matt cope? How will Matt survive? How will Mello go on without his Matty? Don't ask me, I have no idea what's going on and I really don't have this story planned at all! YAY ORGANISATION! REVIEW DAGNAMIT! I don't care if it's good, bad, constructive criticism, angry rant about how this sucks, angry rant about your life in general! I DON'T CARE JUST REVIEW! Okay, that sounded harsh... Review, please? :-) **


	11. Chapter 10

**That awkward moment when I've been spelling Mello's real name wrong this whole time... The 'a' comes before the 'e'... Lol, so many fails I can't count them all. I'll make sure to spell it write from now on... I promise... to try. INTP, I can't believe I made that stupid grammatical error, holy cow, I'm so stupid sometimes! Did you know that there are only like three more chapters left, including this one? Sorry this took so long, but I had to get this chapter right for you, because I didn't want to fail you guys with the last chapter's follow up...**

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own Death Note. Simple as.**

**Chapter Ten- Gone**

**Matt POV **

"We the jury have decided, that Caroline Jeevas' prison sentence is over," The Judge reads out, I can barely breathe and I can feel my heart break as he says, "And will have full custody of her son, Mail Jeevas."

No! This can't be happening, I can't be leaving Mello for _her. _I can't be going back there, how could the jury have decided _this? _I thought my mother's guilt was so obvious, everyone else in the room could tell that she was guilty, but the jury decided that she was innocent, and that I had to stay with her? Mello whispers comforting nothings into my ear; telling me that it's okay, that everything's fine, L will sort it all out. I can't believe him, not this time. When my mother is involved, I can only ever be certain of pain, torture and heart break. But, what if she actually has changed? No! What am I thinking? She'll never change, she'll always be that one mother that hated her own son. The mother that locked her son up in a wardrobe. Nothing else, she'll never change.

I can't go back there, I just can't. I can't. I simply can't. I can't go back to what I was before, not really living, just not being dead. Not really complete. Before Mello, I simply existed rather than doing anything with my life. I simply breathed rather than living.

"Matt, I will do everything I can to get you back to Wammy's," L's voice tells me, but I just sit there, my head in my hands trying to sort my thoughts out, I can't even think straight, "I will do everything necessary."

"Mail?" I snap my head up, finding my mother's green eyes locked on mine, her brown hair framing her face, "Are you ready? The social workers are picking your stuff up and we're going home, darling."

"Mrs Jeevas, my name is Mello," Mello grows from behind me, his whole body radiating anger as he stares at the woman that I hate, "I'm Matt's boyfriend and I can tell you something, I _will _be getting him back because I know exactly what your lawyer did. I promise you, you will be going back to jail, and Matt will be back with us."

"I don't what you're talking about," Mother shakes her head in exacerbation, "Anyway, I'll be taking my son and leaving now," she grabs my arm and pulls me out of the door.

"Oi!" Mello screams after us, he grabs me, twists my face towards him and pulls me into what might be our last kiss. I answer eagerly, letting him engulf me in pure pleasure. This kiss is different though, he's almost needy, and his teeth graze my bottom lip for entrance after only a second. I don't care that everyone's watching, I answer without hesitating, letting myself drown in Mello's distinctive taste of chocolate and vodka. He's never lost that taste, even after a year, and he doesn't drink, he still taste's of Russian Vodka. After a minute of pure bliss, he pulls away, his beautiful eyes brimming with tears, "I love you Matty, I love you so much."

"I love you too," I breathe, as my arm is tugged on by mother, "I'll be okay, I promise."

"Promise you won't give up until I get you," His words are heavier and have more meaning than anyone could possibly imagine, "Love you."

"I love you too," I almost burst into tears, but I don't. Everyone is watching and the remainder of my family's eyes are wet as they watch me and Mello, "Promise that you won't give up?"

"I promise," I believe him, I can this time. I know that when Mello is involved, the only thing waiting for me is love, care and the promise of forever.

"Come on Mail, we're going to be late," Mother gently guides me out of the courtroom but all the time Mello, Rodger, Watari and L are right behind us. Even as we walk out into the rain and into the car, Mello follows me as far as possible. I gaze out of the back of the car, watching as my blonde Russian fades into nothing. I close my eyes, picturing my beautiful Mello. His golden blonde hair, that pale skin that is almost like ivory. Those piercing blue eyes. Those blue eyes, the most perfect thing to ever exist. They can look into your soul and find everything that ever existed in it, they can find every scrap of sadness you've felt, find every tear you've shed and they can fix any scars that they left. I watch him disappear, watch as everything I've ever loved disappears and shatters around me.

**Mello POV **

Watching Matt's face from the back of his mother's car has to be the worst thing I've ever watched. With the glasses, I can see all his emotions and the only emotion I saw in his beautiful green eyes was pure sorrow. It takes everything I have to stop myself from running after him, the only thing holding me back is that Rodger has a firm hand on my shoulder, keeping me from moving an inch. I watch the car disappear into the distance, and after the car is gone, the world seems empty. Without my red haired gamer, everything seems so different, as if the whole reason the world kept spinning has gone.

"Mello," L says and I turn around, finding myself being stared at by a pair of empty black eyes, "I swear that I will get Matt back to us. I swear it. I will inform the judge and the court system of the bribery, and it will be fixed."

"L, thank you," I croak, trying to stop my voice from breaking as I choke on the words.

"Mello?" I hear Jess' voice in my ear, she seems to have no sense of personal space, "I can check up at the house every day, pass on messages or something, would that make you feel better?"

"You would really do that?" I ask, staring at the red haired girl in shock as I notice the tears welling in her lime green eyes.

"Of course I would, Mail's my cousin, I love him," She embraces me into a hug, wrapping me up tight, "We have to protect him."

"I know," This girl, she's almost exactly like me; we both have this uncontrollable need to protect Matt, "We will."

"Good." She pulls away, holding me at arm's length, her lime eyes locked onto my blue ones, "Do you have a phone or something so I can tell you how he's doing?"

"I don't have a phone but..." I sigh, I can't believe that a simple thing such as owning a phone is keeping me from knowing how safe my Matty is.

"Mello can use my phone," L hands me one of his many mobiles; "I am not using it at this moment."

"Thank you, L," I say gratefully as Jess takes the phone and programs her number into it, and then programs my phone number into hers

"There you go, " Jess announces proudly, handing me the phone back, "I'll call or text you every day, is that okay?"

"Yes, that's wonderful!" I embrace her into a hug, so thankful for what she's doing for me, "You're the best, thank you."

"I'm not just doing this for you, you know?" Jess shakes her head, "Mail will want to know how you're doing too. And I do want to look after my cousin."

"I know, I know." For some reason, I find myself smiling, smiling even though this has to be one of the worst days of my life. I guess her and Matt are almost too much like each other, both of them can make me smile when I still have tears in my eyes.

"I have to go now," Jess skips off towards her parent's car with a wave, "I'll call you!"

I watch her leave, her poster-red hair swaying in time with her every step, the sun reflecting off her pale skin that is still somehow tanned. Me, L, Watari and Rodger slowly making our way back to the cars, and the journey back to Wammy's is even worse than the journey there. I have no idea how I'm meant to explain this to Linda, seriously, what am I even meant to tell her? I ask L this, and he simply tells me: "Tell her whatever you see fit Mello, but Matt will be returning to us shortly." For a genius detective, sometimes he's not helpful even the slightest little bit...

"Hey Mello, where's dear Matty?" Linda asks, but her smiling face falls when she sees me. I know why, I look an absolute mess. I've been crying my eyes out in the car, racking my hair up with my hands trying to calm myself down. It didn't work, "What happened?"

"We lost the court case, he's back with his mum..." I whisper, so no one other than Linda hears. Before the trial, Matt told Linda what was going on, because she's our best friend and she deserved to know. Linda was really supportive, and she swore on her sister's grave that she would never tell a soul, "L's trying to get him back, and Matt's cousin is checking up on him every day but... but..."

"Shhhh," Linda holds me up, as my legs threaten to give from under me and strokes my hair in the comforting way Anastasia normally does when I'm feeling down. I haven't seen my family for a while because I've been busy with Matt and trying to keep him sane, and luckily Anastasia, Avel and the twins are okay with it and understand, "It'll be okay, L will sort this out, don't worry. It'll be okay, I promise."

"How do you that?" I ask, trying to hold in my tears, and only just succeeding

"Because L will get him back, and you will always protect him. Even if he's a million miles away, you two will always be together in some way."

"Thanks, Linda."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Mello!_"Jess yells through my phone, she's so loud I can feel my ear drums break, "_Why wouldn't you pick up, goddamnit?!"_

"I was in a lesson, I couldn't answer," I sigh, trying to calm myself, "Tell me, how is he?"

"_That's why I yelled at you for not answering the phone!"_ Jess screams. Wait, so it's that bad? _"He's lost weight, and when I first got there, I heard Caroline telling Mail 'get out of there, Jess is here'. I think something bad's happening!"_

"Are you sure?" I can barely keep myself from hyperventilating; I knew this would happen, knew something bad would happen to my Matty, "What are you saying?"

"_I think that we need to get him out soon,"_ Jess growls, and I can practically feel the anger coming through the phone, _"And by soon, I mean like tomorrow."_

"L still hasn't managed to sort out all the legal stuff yet," I scowl at my reflection in the window, trying to understand, trying to figure this all out. It's been two weeks, L should have sorted this out by now, "He doesn't know how long that's going to take yet..."

"_Well, tell him to hurry the fuck up!"_ Jess moans, but I can still hear the worried undertone, "_Mail's not going to last otherwise..."_

"What are you saying?!" I scream, I even take the phone away from my eyes and just scream into the microphone.

"_You didn't know him while he was living at his mother's, how desperate he was just to _escape_."_ Jess sighs, and I can practically feel _her_ tears flowing from _my_ eyes, "_He tried to _kill_ himself Mello, twice, just because he wanted to escape. He never self harmed, but he never tried to quit smoking because he thought it would kill him. He was so... broken. Yeah, broken. He never spoke to anyone, never ate because he was trying to starve himself to death and when he jumped into the river to drown himself he pretended that he just slipped and fell into it. If we don't get him back soon, he might revert back to that..."_

"You seriously think that I would let him stay there for so long that he would revert back to that?" I choke, "You think that I would let something like that happen?"

"_No, but he might get worse quicker than you think he would..." _Jess sighs, and I know she's hurting just as much as I am about this, "_Just, please get him out soon?"_

"Of course I will, Matt's not going to kill himself because I'm getting him out as soon as possible."

"_Mello, just, hurry up, please?" _Jess pleads through the phone, "_I have to go now, I'm sorry. I'll call you tomorrow."_

"Bye." I say, only realising afterwards that I was too late for her to hear me. I hope I'm not too late for Matty. I won't be too late for Matt. I'm going to save him.

I just have to hope that Matt hasn't done anything stupid yet. I have to hope that he won't do anything stupid. I hope he doesn't do anything stupid. I don't think I could take it if Matt was gone, if Matt killed himself I don't think I would be able to go on living without him. Maybe, if, _if, _Matt killed himself, he would be kind when I end it too. Maybe he wouldn't hate me for ending my life just because he ended his, maybe he would see that I just loved him so much, that I couldn't cope without being with him. I Matt dies, I think I would never get to be happy again, because Matt was one of the only people who could ever make me happy, and I love him.

If he died, there would be so many things I wouldn't get to do with him. He's had all my other firsts, but I want to marry him, go on our first day trip, first concert, first pet, first holiday, first child, first son, first daughter, kid's first day at school, kid's graduation, kid's marriage and first grandchild. I want that for us, I want us to go through all of our firsts together because I love him so much, and I would never do any of those things with anyone else. But, if he dies then I'll never get to do those things with him, I'll never see his smiling face at our wedding, the first time he sees our child and every other first I want to have with him. That's why I have to save him, because I'm not going to let him throw away a life time of firsts just because he can't cope right_ now_. No, he's going to live through all of those firsts with me, and he's not going to end it. Maybe I should stop planning so far ahead.

Maybe, I should stop thinking about Matt killing himself.

**Matt POV (English)**

Everything hurts, but my heart is the worst of all. It's been took weeks, and in that two weeks I've spend most of my time either in the wardrobe or on the floor crying, because I'm back _here _again. I've never felt so bad in my life, because I've finally seen what happiness could be like, and then it was taken away from me and I'm back in the horrific place that I started out in. I've barely had a peaceful moment's sleep; every single night's been full of nightmares. I can't cope when I'm awake, Mum just spends the time staring at me with those hateful green eyes, she's the only person in my family who manages to fill our signature green eyes with hatred.

Every member in my family has come round to check on me at some point, but Jess comes every single day. She comes round in the morning, and refuses to leave until she has to, she's twenty-one and is on her gap year. She's was off in Africa doing some work for _Water Aid _or something, but when she heard about the trail she came back straight away, and she's planning to go back to Africa when this thing is all sorted out. She tells me every day that Mello's coming, that it won't be long until I get to leave again, that Ryuzaki is going to come and get me (L told her that is name was Ryuzaki, because he couldn't let her know that he was really L). My Aunt came once, and my other cousin Kai came as well but Mum sits in the room and keeps a close eye's watch on us the whole time. It's unnerving to say the least; in fact, it's the creepiest thing she's ever done.

"Mail?" Jess snaps her fingers in front of my face, her spoon balancing between her teeth precariously, we were having tomato soup, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, just tired," I answer honestly, it's so easy to tell when I lie, "I haven't been sleeping well, that's all."

"Have you been having nightmares?" Jess asks, and I nod, not even bothering to lie, "You know your mum is asleep, right?"

"Yeah, why?" I glance at that bitch of a woman who gave birth to me, happily passed out in the kitchen after getting drunk.

"We could call Mello," I freeze as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, I can barely breathe, I can't believe this is happening. She calls, and the phone rings loudly for a minute and suddenly it cuts off, "Mello?"

"_What is it?" _I can barely keep myself from screaming, Mello is talking to me right now, "_Is Matt okay?"_

"Yeah, of course he is," Jess smirks, and a little chuckle comes from her mouth, "He's right here with me, he can hear you."

"_Matt?" _Mello's voice chokes out, echoing and still full of emotion even through a phone speaker, "_Are you really there?"_

"Yeah..." I barely hear the little shout of joy coming from the speakers but it's still there, "How are you?"

"_Really Matt?" _Mello chuckles, but he sounds almost relieved, "_Are you holding up?"_

"I'm doing okay," I lie, through my teeth because I hope he can't hear the lie, "It's better than I thought."

"_Don't like to me Matty," _Mello growls, and I guess I've been busted, "_Please, just hold on a little while longer, we'll get you out. I promise."_

"Mello, I'm fine, don't worry about me," I laugh simply because I don't want him to wind himself up about this, "I can wait."

"_Matt!" _Mello shouts, his voice contorting as he overloads the microphone, "_I know when you're lying, so don't you dare try to lie to me! I know that you're not okay, so don't you pretend that you're fine, because you're not."_

"I know, but I can still wait a little bit more," I answer honestly, because I can never lie to Mello.

"_We have to sort out all the legal stuff, like proving that the jury was bribed, getting the judge to do... that word he said..." _Mello pauses, trying to sort his words out. Sometimes he mixes up his English and his grammar, "_I'm not sure what we have to do, but it's going to take a while, but not too long."_

"I get it, I'll be fine waiting." I nod towards no one in particular, "I love you Mello."

"_I love you too," _Mello sighs, making the speaker vibrate slightly, "_I have to go now, but I love you so much."_

"Love you more." Mello hangs up, leaving nothing but the ache in my heart from his 'I love you'. Jess doesn't say anything, she simply places a hand on my shoulder, smiles slightly and leaves without a goodbye because saying anything would ruin the magic. I can't believe I got to talk to him, nothing can take away how happy I feel. Not even my bitch of a mother can take away how happy I feel.

I get up from the floor and pad silently over to the kitchen to get my tea. By tea, I mean a bowl of coco-pops. I pour the milk into the bowl, grab a spoon and make my way back to the lounge. It's the summer holidays, so I don't have to worry about going to school yet. I've even had to move school, seen as the house is as far from Wammy's as almost possible. I'm a three hour drive away from Wammy's by car and even longer by bus or train. It's almost like a world away from Mello and Linda and Wammy's. I hate it, it's so far away that I can't visit my friends or Mello even if I had money for the bus. Not that my mum would let me have any money anyway, she gives my money to buy the food shopping down at Morrisons, to get her and my cigarettes and to get her alcohol. Then the money for petrol. Luckily, she let me keep Chevy Camaro and my 1967 Corvair Monza but the others are still safely locked away in my garage at Wammy's under Mello's protection. He swore to guard them with his life, and I told him that if there was even a scratch on one of the bonnets I was going to kill him. Kill him slowly.

I spend the rest of the day munching on coco-pops, watching TV and playing Final Fantasy and Pokémon Red. My mum does wake up all day, simple drunk out of her mind and sometimes she snorts like a pig. I don't pay any attention to her, I simply try and forget that she exists and imagine that the sounds of her sleeping are coming from Mello, and that he's watching me play. The coco-pops smell a bit like chocolate, so it sort of smells like Mello could be in the room. Maybe I should open a bottle of vodka just so I can recreate Mello's smell. I think I'm going insane, no normal person would think like that, it's really not normal. No wonder people ignore me, seriously, I'm starting to think that I am insane. Maybe I should cut down on my pills, because I think they're making me insane.

They say that absence makes the heart grow stronger, but absence is making my heart grow fucking painful. Mello made me so happy, and without him it seems that maybe things are getting worse. Maybe things are worse than I thought they would be, but I can stay strong for Mello because I love him and I don't want to make him worry. Mello's gone through just as much horrific stuff in the past as I have, but he still stays strong, so I'm not going to make sure that I follow in his footsteps. Mello's been abused, almost been killed by his father, left his country, moved away from his family and somehow managed to stay sane enough. He found an outlet, not an outlet that I agree with but he somehow managed to think of something other than breaking down and trying to end it.

I've done that too many times, tried to end it but I've never succeeded obviously. I tried to drown myself in the river, tried to over dose on pain killers, tried to starve, was almost on the edge of jumping of my school's roof. So many times, so many failures, too many chances that I've blown to fucking pieces. I could have waited until my mum was out of the house when I tried the pills, could have not jumped in the river when there were too many people around and I could have not tried to jump off the school roof, because I guess 10 feet wasn't high enough to even injure myself in the slightest. That's saying something, because it doesn't take me much to injure myself. Running around a building can sprain and break my ankle.

But, Mello never tried once. Never. So from now on, I'm never going to try and kill myself ever again. Not when Mello is coming to get me, when Jess comes and checks on me every day and not when I'm going to get out of here. Because there's no point in it really, because why take the most dangerous escape when another, safer escape is just around the corner and is getting closer? Why would I do that? Mello would hate me for that, because he's getting me out and if I ended it then I'm just wasting all of his effort and all of his energy. He'd hate me if I even tried, because then all of his efforts to _save me _were a complete and utter waste of time. He spent so long trying to save me and he actually did save me, and I'm not going to waste all of that just to escape. I have another exit waiting for me, so I'm not going to take the easy one.

"Mail!" Mother screams from the kitchen, finally woken up, and I flinch in fear, "Get your arse in here now!"

"Coming!" I race in the kitchen, using my hands to propel myself forwards quicker because keeping my mum waiting is never the best of ideas. I'm greeted by a harsh slap on the face, and I fly to the floor from the force of it.

"Don't you use that tone with me!" She growls from above, her green eyes framed with anger, "Get in there now!"

I don't question, I simply run upstairs and climb carefully into the wardrobe in her bedroom. I hate this wardrobe; it's the worst place I can possibly imagine. The door clicks shut, and I let my mind go blank, I picture Mello, smiling at me, telling me it's going to be okay. His blue eyes are happy, his blonde hair reflecting the sun making it seem like he has a halo. His rosary sways in the imaginary wind, quietly chiming when it hits his zips and the buckles on his jacket. Mello, he's my guardian angel, he protects me even though he's not even here, that's just how close and strong our bond is. Cheesy but true. I love him, and that's what keeps me sane when I'm in here, the fact that he still loves me no matter what.

" _I love you Matt,_" the Mello of my mind whispers, "_Just stay strong, I'm coming."_

"I love you too Mello."

**Mello POV**

I sit on my bed, stroking my rosary lovingly. I stare at the picture of Matt and me, both of us smiling like we haven't got a care in the world. He looks so happy, he's thin as hell and I can see his well defined jaw bones and I can see his neck bone clear as day, but he looks so happy. I picture him smiling at me, his Gameboy Colour bleeping away, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he focuses on beating the next level of Mario. His red hair sways in the wind, his goggles are off and I can see his green eye shining with pure joy as he glances up at me. He looks happy, happier than he ever has.

"I love you Matt," I whisper to the imaginary Matt in my head, "Just stay strong, I'm coming."

"_I love you too Mello."_

**YOU, YEAH YOU! YOU, THE READER OF THIS STORY THAT HASN'T REVIEWED YET? YES, YOU! I CAN SEE YOU! REVIEW! Okay, so I love the guests that are reviewing and the guys with acounts, you guys are awesome! So, might be considered a bit of a filler chapter but trust me, it's needed. And the story is almost over! Wow, I'm starting to think I've become a little bit too emotionally attached to this story, when it's over I might have to start rocking back and forth in a dark corner with some chocolate. Because, that's how much this story has taken over my life. **


	12. Chapter 11

**This is the last chapter, I decided that I wouldn't need another chapter, so this is the last one guys! Not to worry you, but I cried writing this. It's been wonderful you guys, my readers, reviewers. I love you reviewers, so much that I'm going to name all of you! Thanks to: CatatonicVanity, Guest, louise, chahana-miyuki, Guest, ThePryn, Guest, Guest, INTP, someone, X, hiei, Guest and Guest! Thanks for your amazing support, and for making sure I continue with the story. So, I use a massive quote from the novel version of L: Change the World because it fits in with the scene and it makes sense as something Watari would say at the time. So yeah, don't hate me for it. ENJOY!**

**DISCLAIMER- I don't own anything, only this story and nothing else. Seriously, having to do this every chapter is annoying. **

**Chapter 11- The End.**

**Mello POV (English)**

"Mello-kun," L glares at me with those empty black eyes that can give me nightmares and have given me nightmares, "I have the legal authority to take Matt away from his mother, and we are able to go and fetch him whenever is most convenient for you."

"We'll go now!" I scream at him, barely able to contain myself. I can't believe he is asking that question, "We can go get him _now_!"

"Mello, I would thank you for restraining yourself," L mutters, his spoon balancing between his teeth, "We cannot go straight away, but if you would wait an hour at most, then we can leave."

"Thank you," I race out of the room, and down the corridor to mine and Matt's room, it's been three weeks, three weeks since I've seen him. Except that time in my bedroom when I imagined I saw him and heard his voice but that doesn't count because that what almost insane. I haven't told anyone about that, because I'm worried that if I do then they'll think I've gone insane.

It takes me ten minutes to reach our bedroom, and then I spend the next hour sitting alone in the dark thinking. Matt, what kind of state is Matt going to be in? He's only been gone a few weeks but Jess said he could turn worse quicker than I thought he would, but he can't have regressed back to how he was when I first met him, could he? He wouldn't have tried anything stupid would he? I can't hold it in anymore, I need to see him, I need to know that he's okay and that he hasn't done anything stupid. If he's done anything stupid I'm going to hate myself forever because I wasn't there to save him, because I was too late to do anything. Then it would have been all my fault, all my fault that's he's dead. He can't be dead. I won't believe it. Not ever.

After about an hour, L and Watari come into the room and tell me that we're going to get Matt. I grab a few bars of chocolate, it's a three hour drive, and make my way down to the drive way. L is already in the car when I climb in, and he doesn't say anything as I sit down and buckle up. We sit in an uncomfortable silence for the three hours, each caught in our own thoughts. L spends his time on the phone, speaking in a language I don't understand. It sounds slightly like a mixture of Turkish and Russian, but I have no idea where it comes from and I don't understand it at all. Watari silently drives us down motorways and country roads, through towns, cities, villages, woods and hills. Normally I would be surprised by the extent of British terrain but I can't even focus on anything.

We finally reach the house, it's small, simple but nice. Anyone else would be impressed by the yellow walls and the blue door but all I see is suffering. I can't help but feel the pain radiating from the house, almost like it's vibrating and pulsing with the horrors that it contains. It seems cheery enough but all I can focus on is that somewhere in that house is a boy, terrified of his mother and scared of the dark all because of a wardrobe. Matt's afraid of the dark, scared that somewhere in the blackest part of that darkness there is something or someone there waiting for him to drag him back and trap him there. I have to leave the lamp on in our bedroom just to keep him from panicking and crying out for someone to save him.

L opens the door, not even bothering to knock. The first thing I notice is that the whole place reeks of alcohol, I could recognise that scent from anywhere. I can even smell the difference between a Guinness and a Murphy's. There's vodka, Bulmers, WKD, Carling and a hell of a lot of Fosters. Matt never told me that his mother was a drinker; he never told me that the smell of alcohol had been a big part of his childhood too. Alcohol, I've never tried and never will try the stuff, even the thought of it makes my faded bruises throb and the scar that came from the knife to sting and shoot pain up my stomach. Alcohol was always the thing that brought me fear, the smell of it back at Russia made me cower in fear and for tears to well up in my eyes because I knew what was coming. Knew that my father was coming and that soon enough, every part of me was going to hurt.

Then I see her, her brown hair zips past us, leaving me in shock as a pair of green eyes appears from the gap of a door. She comes out, flying, racing, pacing, her body as fast a deer's, everything's a blur but one thing stands out in a world that seems to be flying by. A knife. A silver, shining, deadly knife. No, not again. This can't be happening again, why, why is it always a knife? She comes at me, pouncing but I don't see her at all, I see my father. I see _then. _I black out.

~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~D

_His words sting, he's never said anything like this before. I hate him, hate him so much. I want to die right now; I have no idea what he's going to do with the knife. Holy shit, he has a fucking knife! He comes up to me, knife raised, ready to do something terrible. He draws it across my neck, I whimper in pain as the blood falls down like a waterfall. He laughs, an evil, I'm-a-murder-and-I'm-going-to-kill-you, laugh. Oh, Lord, please! Please, please, please, please, please, please don't let this be happening. This can't be happening! THIS CAN'T BE FUCKING HAPPENING! I've wanted to die for so long, but as Father stands above me, laughing like a maniac, I struggle and hate the feeling of knowing the pain that's going to come. I squirm, trying to stand up, but am forced down as pushes on my leg. He adds more pressure to my ankle, more pressure, more pressure and more pressure until... SNAP! I scream in agony, my ankle is on fire! Explosions of pain shoot up my leg, forcing tears to pour from my eyes. _

_I stop short as he drives the knife into my chest, I don't make any sound. I sit there, like a fish, opening and closing my mouth. Blood splatters onto the floor, a red river of death. My life flashes before my eyes, cheesy but it happens, pain, pain and more pain is all I can think of. Mother's words of disgust when I tell her I'm gay; Father's punches of hate for who I am; the pain of three years of having no parents who love me. The pain of my older brother, the one I looked up to, admired and loved, going against me, hating me and betraying me when Father tells him to. The slow thinning of my thick hair, my body thinning due to neglect and starvation. People finding out that I'm gay, my friends turning away from me because society says so. The teachers only talking to me because I get great results and make the school look good. Watching Anastasia explaining to our younger brothers why I'm not allowed to eat enough food, why Father beats me and why everyone hates their older brother. _

"_So faggot, what you gonna do?"_

~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~D~~~~~~~~D

"Mello, Mello wake up?"

I feel my eyes flutter open, I see the thin form of L glaring down at me, his black eyes full of anger and fear. Wait, L's eyes are never afraid, never scared of anything. Then I see it. His white shirt, it's not white, it's red. Red. The same colour as blood. Blood, that's blood. _What? _NO! L smiles at me, it's the first time I've seen him smile and I would be shocked at seeing emotion coming from the raven, but all I can feel is horror. He slumps on the floor, his body crumpled like a broken doll, his skin no longer pale but clammy and wax like. He looks like he's made of china as he lays there, barely breathing on the floor.

"No!" I scream, I can't contain myself as his breath leaves his body, slowly dying right in front of me, "You can't be dying! There has to be something I can do! There's something, there is!"

"Mello, there isn't anything you can do," He says matter-of-factly as if he isn't dying in my arms, "She hit a main artery, there's no way to stop the bleeding."

"NO!" I feel my red hot tears streaming down my face, feel everything escape in chokes and sobs because he's ending, "You... you can't... Please, no! Please! Пожалуйста, не оставляйте меня, ты не можешь оставить меня! Ты не можешь умереть! Нет!"

"Mello... find Matt and-d take him back t-to Wammy's-s," L stutters, barely able to annunciate his words as a trickle of blood pours from his mouth staining his usually pale lips blood red. Like a lipstick, made purely of the essence of life and what makes us.

"No!" Watari yells, taking L by the hand as his black eyes close for a second and as L's eyes flutter for a second, he screams, "Lawliet you can't die!"

"Quillish..." L pauses, shuddering in either anticipation or fear, "Take care of them... thank you, Quillish... thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Watari, no, Quillish croaks, tears falling from his face but his eyes are smiling, "I wouldn't change anything. I'm so glad, so glad that I had a son as great as you. I wouldn't have it any other way, because you've been amazing. "

"You've been like a father to me Quillish, thankyou..." I could never know, I could never tell that as his eyes close, this would be the last time, "Death... hello, my old friend."

His body shivers, his breath stops and suddenly the world, the universe and time itself stops as the man in front of me is no longer a person. The thing in front of me is a cadaver. They always said that when someone dies, they simply look like they're asleep. Wrong, it was wrong, they all lied. L doesn't look like he's asleep, he looks empty. As if he's never had any life in him, or that his body never walked or lived or talked or solved any cases. He's empty. Simply empty and he's come nothing. _Nothing. _

Then it all does black again.

As I blink myself back into existence, I notice a stinging pain in my knuckles, and the woman on conscious in front of me. I don't remember that, I can't remember doing it but I know it was me. I just knocked out a 40 year old woman in a fit of rage and I don't remember a thing. Watari places a firm but kind hand on my shoulder and as I glance back at him, I see the concern in his eyes. He shakes his head, knowing that what I did, whatever I did, was wrong. He smiles a tired, worn out smile that is sad, but happy all at the same time. Watari asks me to never mention his, or L's name and I nod without question as he wraps L in the silk blanket that he found. We leave the body and make our way around the house, trying to find Matt and failing.

Eventually, we find the wardrobe that Matt so horrifically hates. I can even hear the sobs coming from the inside. I pull open the door to find the crying Matt, curled up at the bottom, surrounded by clothes. His tear stained face looks up at me, his green eye shining with unsung fear. His face his dirty somehow, his skin is clammy and he's thinner than I remember. He flings himself at me, his too thin arms wrap around my waste and he sobs his tears onto my shirt that is already stained with my own tears. His body shakes against my own, his thin frame racking with tears and his bones protruding and poking my chest. Suddenly, his shaking stops and he slumps, the only thing holding him up is my own arms.

"We need to take him to the hospital," Watari tells me, his voice assured and I don't question his judgement. I leave with him, following as he carries Matt into the car bridal style because I can't carry him, even though he's thin he's too heavy for me to lift up, "It'll be three hours back to Wammy's, but do you think he can wait that long?"

"I think so..." I tell him, but there's one thing I have yet to ask, "What are we going to with L's..."

"I've called the police, and they're coming to arrest Ms Jeevas and take L's body down to the morgue," Somehow, he's staying calm, but I guess it's come from a life time of knowing that L was going to die, and that he was going to see it. I'm the only person to see Watari lose the aura of calm he has, and to see through L's emotionless exterior. I heard the famous L's last words, and that's something I will never forget. Ever, "Mello, are you feeling alright, you seem a little shocked?"

"It's been a long day..." I whisper, even though I know it's the greatest understatement of the century, "I've never seen someone, you know..." Watari waits as I choke on my words, "How do I forget?"

"You don't forget, Mello," Watari informs me as he places Matt's sleeping form across the back seats, "You simply don't dwell on it."

"Oh..." I shake, trying to rid my brain of thoughts of L's dying form and try and stop thinking his last words, "Watari, when was the first time you saw someone die?"

"Well, that's a long story," Watari chuckles, "It was actually L's parents. L was only a baby then, but they were the first people I saw die."

"I'm sorry," I say, thankful that he's being completely honest with me, "You knew L's parents then?"

"Yes, I grew up with them," He nods and smiles this bitter sweet smile as we drive down the M3, "They were good friends, all of our parents were friends and even though they were younger than me, we were good friends. They were smart, very smart, but not nearly as smart as their son."

"I guess that's pretty obvious," I chuckle, not sure exactly why I'm laughing but doing it anyway, "They must have been nice people, how did they die?"

"They were murdered, their house was raided by some burglars who killed them both, but missed L, thankfully," Watari shakes his head, as if clearing the visions of his childhood friends' bodies, "Let's change the conversation to a more cheery topic, how about that?"

"Yeah." I agree, because this conversation is getting me down a bit, "How long till we get back to Wammy's?"

"Another two and a half hours," Watari informs me.

Two and a half hours. Just wait, Mello. Just wait.

~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D

"Matt, are you awake now?" I ask, but already knowing the answer as a green eye glares at me with disbelief, as if I've gone insane or something, "We need to talk."

"Mello, where are you going with this?" Matt says hesitantly, and I can see the worry in his eyes even through his goggles

"It's about L," I'm trying to work out how to tell him this. How do I tell someone that their mother killed someone, and that person was their teacher and the person that saved their life, "When we were at your house, your mum was drunk and she..."

"She what Mello?" Matt's voice is laced with fear, his thin frame is shaking and I can tell he's struggling to say the words to ask the question.

"She stabbed L," Matt's breath hitches, freezing in his throat, "And he... he's dead."

"No..." Matt chokes under his breath, his head shaking, trying to process the new information he's just received. I'm sitting here on an uncomfortable, plastic chair trying to banish the image of L dying from my brain, and to stop thinking his last words like a mantra, "You're..."

"I'm not lying Matt," I say shakily, "I saw him die..."

"Okay..." Matt shudders, unshed tears turning his eye into a forest in a thunderstorm, "What happened to her?"

"She went straight to jail," I answer, thankful that this time Matt doesn't have to talk about what happened to him, "She admitted to murder and child abuse and she was sent to prison to finish her sentence for the first time, and for murder. She's never getting out."

"Good."

Matt doesn't say a word again for the next hour, simply staring at the ceiling in shock or crying onto my shirt. Rodger comes and picks us up three hours later, he mutters his apologies and silently drives us to Wammy's. I'm thankful for the silence, I really need to sort of my thoughts before I talk to anyone. I saw someone die and heard their last words, that's big and traumatic for anyone. But this is _L, _the man that saved me from being stabbed with a knife, but couldn't save himself. It's cruelly ironic, as if the world is trying to get back at me, or death is punishing us for cheating him. But, death, L's "old friend", what did that even mean? I guess L has duelled with death his whole life, and maybe he sees death as just a friend that he's known his whole life, and therefore has no need to fear him. That makes sense. Or maybe that's all just fucking stupid and he was afraid, he just didn't want to show it. That would make sense too. Maybe L didn't want to show weakness at his last moment, or maybe he didn't want to frighten me, or maybe he didn't want to worry Watari? All of those make sense, but none seem to stand out or have a higher possibility than the others.

The next three weeks are hell on earth. I get so many questions from the students, asking me what it was like seeing L die but I don't want to answer them. L's last moment's were hard to watch, and it's hard to keep L and Watari's secrets as well. I know that L wasn't emotionless, that he loved and was loved back; I know that Watari saw L as his own son, even though he wasn't even related to the raven haired twenty year old detective. I know that L's name was Lawliet, that Watari's name is Quillish and those are names that I will take to my grave forever. I know that L is dead, but that no one can ever know his name, that no one can ever learn of his past. Watari is still alive, so no one can know his name either but that's because he's still working with the next L: Near.

A week after L died, Near was announced as his successor. Near graciously took the post, and actually asked me if I would work with him, two people taking L's post. I told him 'no', because there are things I need to take care of here, and that I could never take the stress and strain of the world relying on my shoulders. I also admitted that my emotions would get in the way, because I had no control over them. I'm still sore, still sore that I never became L, but at least this means I can stay with Matt at Wammy's. Me and Matt have been offered jobs as teachers; me teaching deductive reasoning and Matt teaching computing. I did agree to help Near if a case was too difficult for one person, but he said that it might never happen. I'm not too sure about that. He's smart, but no way near as smart as the late L.

It rains as we stand over L's grave on the day of his funeral. God himself and all of his angels must be crying over his death, but I can't really believe that. L's up there in heaven, obviously. He's saved too many lives, done too much good and stopped too much evil to be anywhere else. We all wear black, even Near, out of respect but I think that white would make more sense. As the rain pours down harshly onto our backs, we listen to Watari's speech. He doesn't hold back, saying everything he's ever wanted to say about L, but has been too afraid or too worried to tell us. He doesn't talk about L's past or his real name, but he talks about more important things. Things that mean more to us than what L's family was like.

"L, to you students, was simply a person to strive to be. Someone to look up to because he was perfect, and that he could never do anything wrong. I hate to tarnish that view of L for you, but L was not perfect and L made mistakes. L was a person, nothing but a person with thoughts, fears, worries, nightmares, dreams and wishes. L, he most was afraid of himself. I know that wouldn't make any sense to you, but it made sense to him. He was afraid of himself, because he was afraid that one day he would fail so badly that you would all she him as nothing but a failure. He was also afraid of the failures he'd made, afraid that one day those failures would come back and haunt him. L was afraid of you, as well. He was afraid that something bad would happen to you, and that he would have to carry the weight of that on his shoulders.

Who could comprehend the man who had lived his life and had to live his life confronting all the lives ended prematurely, the tears of the grief-stricken survivors, the devaluing of life as a daily reality. How was it possible to measure the pain of such a man? Was it a strain so heavy that L's back curved under the weight? Was is an agony so terrible to leave the indelible dark circles around his eyes? Was it a feeling so bitter that every bite he took needed to be coated in sugar? The chronically rounded shoulders, the inevitable dark circles, the eccentric tastes- L suppressed the pain of being a champion of justice, but the evidence of the pain was moulded into his very body."

After the funeral, me and Matt stayed locked up in our bedroom, crying our eyes out but not letting anyone else see our sorrow. Matt can't take L's death, and I can't take L's death either. Every time I close my eyes, I see his dead eyes, his wax-like body and his last words echo around my head all the time. "Death... hello my old friend" has almost become like the focus of my insanity, the only thing keeping me sane is that L greeted death kindly without fear and without panic. That's something I'll always hold on to, that L was calm until the very end. I hope to be able to do the same thing, that when I die I'll be able to greet death like a friend that that I'll face the Grim Reaper with the same confidence as L did.

"Mello," Matt croaks, his voice hoarse from all of sobs, "Promise you'll never ever leave me? Promise you won't die?"

"I promise you forever," I answer truthfully, because forever is how long I plan to stay with Matt

"Really? Because no one lives that long."

"Yeah, but love lives forever. Love never dies, no matter what."

"Promise, please, never leave me, not ever."

"Mail Jeevas, I promise you that one day we'll get married, we'll see our child grow up, we'll watch them have their own kid."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D~~~~~~D

((Three Years Later))

In the dark of a dimly lit bedroom, a red haired young man writes as tears flow from his eyes. His hands shake and he barely manages to write, and what he does write is barely legible. He hates that he's alone, somewhere in his tiny flat there should be a skinny, blonde, chocolate addicted Russian, but that Russian is long gone. Gone so far away that no one on earth could reach him. Not ever. The red haired man stares at the gun next to him, thankful that all his pain with finally be over in a matter of seconds.

"_Dear Friend,_

_Once upon a time, there was a boy called Mail Jeevas, and his mother hated him for reasons that are hard to talk about so she locked him in a wardrobe. One day, a man called L saved him, and took Mail to an orphanage for gifted children called Wammy's House. Mail became Matt, because in Wammy's Mail could not exist. For years, Matt was alone, his depression slowly festering inside of him, ready to rot him from inside. After seven years, everything got better for Matt because of a blonde haired Russian called Mello. At first they were best friends, then they were lovers. Matt loved Mello, and Mello loved Matt back just as much._

_Eventually though, the happiness was not to last. Matt's mother came back, and after a rigged court ruling Matt had to go back and live with his mother. Matt became Mail once more. After three weeks of horror, Matt was rescued by Mello and a man called Watari, and L. But, in the process, L died after being stabbed to death by Matt's mother. After L's funeral, Mello promised that he would never die and that Mello would never leave Matt. The two men got married, and for two years they lived. Happily ever after, with Mello's promise stretching there in front of him. Mello broke his promise. A year ago, Mello died in a horrific accident. Mello was riding his motorbike and as he turned into a roundabout, he was hit by a drunk driver and died instantly. _

_That's why I'm leaving, Mello was the only one to keep me sane for all of those years. He stopped that festering depression inside of me, he stopped the fear but when he died, all of those things came back with a vengeance. And with no one there to stop them, they got worse and worse and worse. The panther came back, faster then and stronger too. I don't have to apologise because I'm just doing what Mello did. Breaking the promise. So, if you're reading this and you don't know who I am, go to the Orphanage in Winchester, you should be in Winchester, and give this to them. If you do know who I am, do the same thing. Goodbye, and thankyou._

_Mail Jeevas-Keehl"_

Matt picked up the gun next to him and stood up. He looked at himself in the mirror, hating the reflection glaring at him. He hated the tears that streamed from his eyes as he loaded the gun with bullets, and he hated how his hand shacked as he took the gun off safe-mode. He hated everything, he hated living, he hated himself, he hated everything about this world. He hated that Mello was dead, and that Mello had been taken away from him by nothing but a drunk driver. Why, was it always alcohol that ruined their lives? It was always alcohol. Always.

And then Matt broke his promise to Mello to never try and kill himself. All because Mello broke his promise of forever.

_**The End**_


	13. Author's Note

**A/N- So, I've been thinking it over, and because I was ordered by my sister (who reads this before you guys) to do something more with it. I've decided to make a prequel of sorts, short stories lasting a chapter long of different anecdotes from Matt and Mello's lives before my story started. My sister seems to think that I should do a story telling the three years between L's funeral and Matt's suicide, but I'm not going to do a fic lasting three years... I don't know how many chapters there will be and when I'm going to be able to post it, but trust me, it is happening.**

**Also, I was ordered by some people to continue writing this story, but the actual story's ended.I was asked to write a sequel. This won't be happening, but the prequel will be but I don't know long you guys will be having to wait for it. The prequel will be called "Hate, Love and Before Russia" and it might be a while before I post my first chapter. I have exams and stuff going on, and it's a little hard to post anything when there's so many exams I have to do... **

**NotSureWhatI'mDoing, **

**Ps. I'm not updating for at least three weeks, and at most a month or even more. I'm not sure yet, depends on how much revision I'm going to do...**


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